


Night Shift

by remylebae



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 1990s, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Episode: s03e08 Lover's Walk, Road Trips, and Gambit has to roll with it, in which Spike thinks that Gambit is a demon, references to rogue/gambit, several months post-Antarctica, they're both bisexual because I say so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remylebae/pseuds/remylebae
Summary: For Spike, he's recently left Sunnydale following the events of Lover's Walk, hoping to win Drusilla back. For Gambit, he's spending his time moving from city to city as he tries to heal from the events that went down in Antartica. Both expecting to never see each other again after a night together, they run into each other once more at a bar- and a homophobe ends up dead with a crowd of onlookers to catch Spike in the act. Forced to flee, the two end up on a road trip of-sorts across the country.Or, a mutant and a vampire walk into a bar...(Title from the Lucy Dacus song "Night Shift"
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Spike (BtVS)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. I'll Never See You Again If I Can Help It

_I feel no need to forgive but I might as well_

_But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt_

_Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down_

_Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell_

_You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift_

_And I'll never see you again if I can help it_

_In five years, I hope the songs feel like covers_

_Dedicated to new lovers_

- _Night Shift_ by Lucy Dacus

Las Vegas had changed little since Spike had last visited the city. He had seen the city through numerous stages in his lifetime, in various iterations as it shifted, as technologies improved and acts, in all of their forms, evolved. Still, the night life didn’t change, not really; the streets and bars and casinos were still busy, packed full of people either escaping the monotonous drone of their daily lives or those who could afford dumping loads of money chasing after half-baked schemes and dreams that were built on an unsteady foundation. There was a nothingness to Las Vegas that chased the bustling lights and excitement: one crack in the façade and it all came undone, like a stray thread snagged by a cat’s claw, undoing the work of a seasoned weaver. It was insincere; there was a vision there, perhaps, underlying everything, but nothing of worth. A chimeric dreaminess to it all. None of it held anything of substance. The people themselves were either so far up their own asses that they stank of their own arrogance or they were weighed down with a forlorn despair that radiated off of them just as vehemently as the stink of the confident jackasses. 

Spike loved it.

He figured he’d treat himself to a small vacation after his departure from Sunnydale, a trip. Drusilla could wait. Hell, it would probably do him some good to keep away for a few more weeks before running after her once more, convincing her to come back to him. He was confident that he was going to get her back with ease.

He’d spent the last week wining and dining at the finest of bars, which was just another way of saying that he stopped at whichever ones had the roughest look to them. He’d visited some of the nicer spots, but they just didn’t cut it; there was a lack of character in the ones that were too clean. He preferred to move in the dark, another face in the crowd. 

Still, he’d tried to visit old bars, ones he had visited way back when. A few had been speakeasies, now converted and styled to entice current crowds. In a town with thousands of choices, each needed to be distinct in their own way, sell a different gimmick to pull another idiot in through its doors. It was bloody well stupid.

He had fed earlier and was now treating a different craving, one involving vodka and the little free pistachios that sat in small dishes on the bar. He leaned back in his seat, unshelling a nut before tossing it back, scanning the room. Someone had turned on a 60s pop hit on a jukebox that was nestled between the two restrooms, and while a few stragglers lingered around it, attempting to dance, for the most part people stuck to themselves, sitting down at booths or bent over their drinks on unsturdy stools. 

The man beside him stumbled off of his stool and headed towards the men’s restroom, leaving his drink unattended and half-finished. Spike watched the door close behind the man before reaching over and downing the man’s drink, stepping down from his own stool after placing the glass back in its spot. He adjusted his leather jacket, hoping that it wasn’t raining outside. He was in need of a smoke. 

He stepped out, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light emitting off of the bar’s sign. A crowd of people stood outside conversing, mostly bikers it seemed, although a few blokes stood around idly, loitering about with their hands in their pockets. Spike patted his own pockets, cursing aloud as he realized that he’d left his cigarettes somewhere. Probably back in his damn car.

He scanned the area, his eyes stopping on a tall man who stood near the corner of the building, where an alleyway separated the bar from the next decrepit shop in the row. The man was staring out at nothing, keeping to himself as he enjoyed his cigarette. Spike took a step closer, noting the man’s sharp cheekbones and jawline. Exasperated with himself for leaving his cigarettes behind, Spike made his way over to where the man stood.

Feet away and having gained the attention of the man, Spike asked, “Mind if I bum a fag?”

The man’s lips tightened and he raised an eyebrow, silent. Spike sighed, nodding his head at the cigarette in-between the man’s fingers. Comprehension dawned across the man’s expression and he nodded before digging around in the pocket of his trench coat, pulling out a carton before passing it Spike’s way. 

Spike opened it, freeing a cigarette. He placed one between his lips, speaking around it. “You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter too, would you?”

Another dig around in his coat pocket. The man tossed a lighter Spike’s way. As Spike lit his cigarette, he looked the man over. He was a few inches taller than Spike with messy brown hair, dressed rather inconspicuously with a brown trench coat over a black tee shirt and dark jeans. Spike’s eyes trailed to the ground, noticing the shoes the man was wearing (dark boots, well-worn) before he glanced back up, noticing that the man had been watching Spike as Spike regarded him. Spike fought the urge to look away, instead meeting the man’s gaze, noticing his- 

Eyes?

Spike stiffened, unable to hide his surprise. It appeared that this fellow was a demon, too. Spike laughed, inhaling a puff of smoke. “You’re a demon! Sorry, mate, I didn’t realize.”

The look he received back was less than pleased. An exasperated sigh accompanied the man’s glare, and Spike held up his hands defensively. Vamps and demons weren’t ones to intermingle often, but he wasn’t one to offend a stranger, especially one that had shared a smoke with him. “Oh, don’t you worry, I won’t be yelling it from the rooftops. I’ve got no qualms with you, anyhow. Secret’s safe with me.”

The man seemed to relax, returning to his own cigarette. Spike watched him exhale then asked, “So, what are you? Can you do anything special? Or do you just got the-” Spike gestured with his free hand at his own two eyes. He didn’t recognize this man’s kind. Maybe he could do some mystical shit.

The man eyed him for a moment, and right when Spike was beginning to wonder if this man was ever going to speak a damn word, the man chuckled, speaking in an accent that Spike wasn’t expecting to flow from his mouth, words slipping out with a relaxed, languid sort of pacing. “Well, I always like a chance to show myself off. Sure, I’ve got a trick or two up the ol’ sleeve.”

He pulled out a pack of playing cards, and Spike snorted. Right then, that’s what he’d meant by trick. Spike gave him an amused look, aware that he wasn’t exactly hiding that he was unimpressed. 

And then the card started to glow.

Spike jumped back with a yelp, cursing as the man threw the card up in the air and let it explode above them. The man seemed pleased with himself, a smug smile resting on his lips once Spike had recovered from the initial shock, eyes back on the man himself. Whatever this guy was, there was power there; Spike had a feeling that there was more to him than just making playing cards explode. 

Spike readjusted his coat, attempting to look passive and disinterested. “Ooo. Fancy.”

The man laughed and Spike smiled. Good. The man had a sense of humor. The man stubbed out his cigarette after one last drag, then asked, “You’re not from here, are you?”

What a stupid question. Spike raised an eyebrow. “Are you?” Spike took another drag from his own cigarette before adding, “Look, I know I clearly don’t sound like I’m from here, but- and I mean no offense- your accent isn’t exactly Mr. Middle-America, either.”

Again, the man laughed. He leaned his back against the brick wall of the building, crossing his arms over his chest, and suddenly his expression shifted, sobering. “Although, is anyone from here?”

Spike took one last inhale from his cigarette, nearly down to its butt, then dropped it onto the concrete, stamping it out with the toe of his boot. Spike considered his options: done with his cigarette, he could let the man be and go back inside, but something about the man intrigued him. Maybe it was running into a fellow demon, or maybe it was just the way the man carried himself, but Spike found that he wanted to continue conversing with him. Nodding, Spike shoved his hands into his pockets and asked, “Why do you find yourself out here?”

The man shrugged. “Been traveling around. I was in San Francisco before this, figured I’d spend some time in Vegas. See the lights, the people. Do some gambling. Guess I wanted a break from everyt’ing, you know? I hadn’t really been out here in awhile, figured it was time to come back.”

He paused, running a hand through his hair. He dropped his gaze and began kicking at a pebble with the side of his boot. “I won’t bore you with the details. Shit happened, I upset some people I cared about, and now I’m out here just trying to… I don’t know. Figure shit out for myself. I got nowhere else to go, might as well hang out in a city that has shit to do.”

Spike watched him for a moment. “Heartbreak?”

The man simply scowled, saying nothing. Finally, he looked back at Spike. “It’s… complicated.”

Spike thought of Drusilla, thought about the task in store for him once he was bored with Las Vegas. Complicated. Yeah, he could relate to that. “I feel you, man.”

A moment passed before Spike held his hand out, offering it. “I’m Spike.”

The man took Spike’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Gambit.”

Spike blinked, brow furrowing. “Gambit? That’s your name? That _can’t_ be your real name.”

“Oh, and Spike’s yours?” the man- Gambit- retorted.

Spike withdrew his hand, laughing. “Alright, touché.” 

A silence fell between them. Spike scanned the parking lot once more, looking at all the bikes and cars in various stages of aging. His own car was parked down the road, aware that the modifications he had made to it brought it a bit more attention than he preferred. He wondered which vehicle belonged to this Gambit fellow; likely something impressive. He didn’t seem the type to travel around Vegas in a minivan. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Spike swiveled his head and looked back at Gambit, who was watching him casually. Gambit gestured with his chin back at the bar’s entrance. “Back inside? It’s a lil’ too warm out for my taste.”

Well, Spike wasn’t one to say no to a drink, especially if someone else was offering to pay. He nodded, following Gambit inside, wondering what this drink would entail. Was he interested in a deeper conversation, or something... more? Spike looked him over as they claimed a booth along the back wall, cocking his head to the side as he considered his next move. Gambit was, he decided, an attractive fellow. Spike wondered if Gambit fancied men. 

Gambit ordered himself a beer and Spike a bourbon, neat. Spike’s eyes were still on the bartender as she walked off to grab their drinks when he heard Gambit ask, “So where are you from?”

Spike leaned back against the tacky, plastic surface of the booth. “London, originally. Grew up there, but since then I’ve been practically everywhere. I’ve been alive long enough though that I no longer consider myself tied to any place.”

Gambit nodded. “I can understand that.”

Their drinks arrived, and they tended to them for a moment. Spike’s eyes trailed to Gambit’s hands, his fingers; he was wearing a pair of black fingerless gloves. Curiosity got the best of Spike and he nodded at Gambit’s hands and asked, “What’s with those?”

Gambit followed Spike’s gaze and glanced down at his hands; the look he gave when he met Spike’s eyes once more was one that suggested it was a nuisance to answer the question, one with an obvious answer. “For the cards. Makes it easier to charge ‘em and throw ‘em.”

“Right.”

Spike leaned back in his seat, sipping his drink as he spread himself out, getting comfortable. “Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself? Where are _you_ from?”

Gambit mirrored Spike’s body language, his arms stretched across the back of the booth, his beer gripped in his right hand. “Well, it’s a long story.”

“I’ve clearly got some time.”

Gambit wasn’t kidding: it _was_ a long story, and it didn’t help that Gambit started from the beginning. Gambit was born in New Orleans, grew up there. There were details Spike got a little lost on- something to do with a guild- multiple guilds- and family drama that Spike couldn’t completely follow. You had to be there, Spike supposed. A wedding gone sour, people killed; a general distaste seemed to cling to the story as Gambit unfolded it to Spike. The guild thing seemed important, though. The Thieves’ Guild, that was the name of the guild his family belonged to, which explained why Gambit was quick with his hands. Spike wondered, as his mind wandered about, unable to remain attentive for long, what else Gambit could do with them.

“That’s why you’re in Vegas, then,” Spike interjected, stopping Gambit mid-sentence. “Bunch of pockets around here for dipping into.”

“Well,” Gambit said with a smile. “That’s not the only reason… but I’d be lying through my teeth if I claimed that I hadn’t nipped a few things here and there.” 

Gambit reached into his pocket and freed a shiny necklace, large rhinestones gathered at the center. Spike blinked. “Impressive.” 

“Yeah?” Gambit replied. “Doesn’t put you off at all?”

Spike paused. Spike hadn’t exactly pointed the conversation on himself, but relaying that he was a vampire always called attention onto himself, onto his story, and while he was always in the mood to explain, in vivid detail, everything he had been up to, he was more interested in Gambit than most of the people he ran into, and he didn’t want to risk scaring him off by going down his usually cocky, conceited trek of detailing out his life and murders. He got a different vibe off of this guy, and he wanted to work it out before opening up about himself. 

Spike sipped again from his drink. “Can’t be scared off by a guy doing the same shit I’m prone to do.”

A tilt of the head, a small smile: Gambit raised his glass. “Cheers, then.”

“Cheers, mate.”

Again, they drank. Gambit was lean, muscular, although Spike couldn’t see for sure since Gambit’s jacket concealed his figure. Gambit was, as far as monikers go, a smart one, especially for a card-throwing thief of a demon. Spike wondered if there was a way to get a proper look at Gambit’s eyes without staring deep into them. Spike placed his glass down on the table, draping himself out once more against the back of his booth. “Gambit’s quite the name.”

“Better than _Le Diable Blanc_.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “And by that you mean…?”

“The White Devil. Helluva nickname to give a child, don’t y’think?”

Gambit grimaced, falling silent. The bitterness that took on his tone said more than words could capture, that this memory still carried quite the bite. Spike said nothing and Gambit sighed. “Anyway, I bounce from place to place for a reason. Not exactly accepted back where I’m from. Ain’t really got a home no more.” Gambit suddenly gestured broadly, as if physically shifting the conversation elsewhere, smiling once more. “Not that I care. I like the road, like traveling. Nothing like a nice hotel, _ouais_?”

“Are you staying far from here?” Spike asked. He was done with his drink, and he placed the empty glass at the end of the table in case a bartender made the rounds clearing finished drinks.

Gambit shrugged. “A little ways. On my bike though, it’s quite an enjoyable ride. Loads of sights to see. Anyway, where are you staying?”

Spike laughed, rolling his head back, up towards the ceiling. When he met Gambit’s gaze, he stopped short, the other man perplexed by his reaction. Spike raised a hand and scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, uh- I’m not exactly staying anywhere. I mean, I’ve got my car. I tend to just… stay there?”

Gambit gaped at him. “Your car? In fucking Vegas? _Cher_ , that shit ain’t safe, not out here.”

Spike blinked, surprised by Gambit’s tone and perhaps just a little thrown off by the use of the pet name as well. Gambit settled down, relaxing back into his seat. In a softer voice, he continued, “Sorry. I’m sure you know how to handle yourself. Just make sure you’re being careful.”

Spike snorted. “Do you always care about complete strangers this much?”

“Well, no, not usually. But then again, most strangers don’t look like you.”

Gambit wiggled his brows, discreetly winking. Amused, Spike wet his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. Gambit was undeniably attractive, and Spike suspected Gambit was aware of this. Spike chose to momentarily ignore the exchange that had just passed between them, instead asking, “So then, what else can you do?”

Again, that little smile. “Pretty good at picking a lock. I mean, what can I say: I steal and blow shit up.”

Spike leaned in across the table, resting his arms folded on top. “You’ll have to show me some time.”

Smirking, Gambit leaned in as well. “Why not now?”

Spike held his breath and Gambit’s gaze. For a moment, he was unsure of his answer, unsure if this was where he wanted the night to go, but then he was nodding and Gambit was jumping up from his seat and throwing bills down, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s get out of here.”

It wasn’t nerves that pumped through Spike’s blood but excitement, excitement that made his blood boil and skin itch. He followed Gambit out, unable to hide his interest in the other man- or, at the very least, what the man might have in store for him. Hell, worse case scenario, Gambit was taking him someplace secluded to try and kill him. Spike didn’t care; if this all ended with a fight, then he’d still have a chance to roll around and get dirty. And if it went the opposite way, well….

He’d have a chance to roll around and get dirty.

Gambit’s bike was clean and seemed almost new. Spike stood to the side as Gambit mounted the bike, his skin prickling as Gambit shot a look back at him, hair over his eyes before he swept it out of the way, nodding at the spot behind him. “Ridden one before?”

Spike scoffed. “Well, _duh_.”

Although Spike did have to admit as he slid onto the spot behind Gambit, it was different to ride on the back of a bike, especially when one was riding with a handsome stranger, and even more so when said handsome stranger had voiced an interest in him. It was hard to maintain one’s sense of nonchalance and bravado when you were actively sitting with your legs wrapped up against another man. Really, it was barely a step up from straddling him, and when taking into account that Spike would have to be holding onto Gambit to stay on? The thought nearly made his heart skip a beat. Well, it would if he had a heartbeat, anyway.

It didn’t help that Gambit sped away with such acceleration that Spike had no choice but to lean in and hold on tight. Gambit turned out of the parking lot sharply, causing Spike to dig his nails into Gambit’s side, and Spike just knew that Gambit must have been smirking. 

They rode in silence for a while. As the ride carried on, Spike found himself clinging closer to Gambit, aware that it was likely safe for him to release his grip but he found himself comfortably glued to Gambit’s back. Spike was still trying to keep his options open. The longer he sat with his arms wrapped around Gambit’s middle, the more cemented he felt that there was only one direction for the evening to go. 

And if he didn’t want to embarrass himself, what with the front of his pants tight up against Gambit, then he needed to get those thoughts out of his head immediately.

Luckily, Gambit was pulling off onto an off-ramp and from the looks of it, where they were headed, there seemed to be nothing in sight. Gambit continued on for another few miles; there was practically no one on the road, and once he was far enough off of the highway, he found a patch along the side of the road that was open enough for him to do… whatever it was that he was planning on doing. 

“You haven’t brought me out here just to murder me, have you?” Spike said in Gambit’s ear.

He felt Gambit’s laugh more than he heard it, the engine growling over softer sounds. “Na’, it wasn’t in the docket, but if that’s more what you’re looking for, then lucky you that we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Gambit cut the engine right next to an open field. Excitement and curiosity had Spike on edge, and it didn’t help that one look at Gambit shot waves of lust through him, straight to his dick. Spike shut his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, and when he opened them, he found that Gambit had wandered several feet away, his deck of cards out and in his hands. 

Gambit turned back and looked at him. “Anything I should aim at?”

Spike nodded past Gambit. “That tree.”

Gambit quirked a brow. “That tree,” he said. “Is going to blow up if I throw a card at it. Maybe start smaller.”

“Why don’t you do your own thing and I’ll just watch, alright? Clearly you’re more of the expert on this than me.”

Gambit turned, facing the field once more, and suddenly his hand- no, the card- was glowing bright, an intense pinkish light that strengthened in brightness and size, so intense that Spike averted his gaze, and just when Spike was sure that the light was as strong as it could be, Gambit threw the card and it exploded.

This wasn’t like the little trick he had done earlier in the parking lot at the bar. This was potent, this was powerful. 

And hot.

Spike wet his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, so you can throw some cards. Good for you. Is that it, then?”

“It’s not just cards,” Gambit replied, tone exasperated before he quickly reined in. “I mean, hell, I could charge my bike and let it explode, but I’m not gonna destroy my bike just to impress a handsome fella, despite how tempting it is.”

“Oh, so I’m handsome, then.”

Spike walked over slowly, holding Gambit’s gaze until he couldn’t anymore, at which point he bent down and picked up the remains of a log, a foot or so in length. He passed it to Gambit, nearing him so that he stood right by his side. Spike waved his hand from the log off to the field. “What about that? Can you make it-”

“ _Cher_ , no offense, but shut up. There’s only so many times I can explain to you that I make shit explode before it gets a lil’ repetitive for ol’ Gambit.”

And then the wood turned into a mass of pink light that exploded magnificently when thrown, a rather huge explosion that made Spike momentarily forget how to stand. He stumbled, thrown off his feet, directly against Gambit’s arm. Gambit righted him, hand lingering on Spike’s arm as he asked, “You okay?”

Spike straightened. “Just keep doing your fancy tricks, mate. I’m fine.”

Gambit continued his charade, pulling out cards, charging them up and throwing them out away from them. It wasn’t until the third that Spike realized he was still standing right up against Gambit, arm-against-arm. Gambit watched his own card explode and reflexively pulled out the next; Spike couldn’t take his eyes away from Gambit’s face, and Gambit must have felt this because he paused and turned his head, their noses and lips inches away.

“Ah,” Gambit murmured. “You caught my drift.”

Spike crashed his lips against Gambit’s, hands instantly roaming and gripping onto the loose material of Gambit’s coat. When he released, he met Gambit’s eyes, staring down into the nothingness of his red-on-black eyes, eyes that glowed, reflecting pink light-

-Pink light?

“ _Merde_!” Gambit cursed flinging the card just as it exploded, blowing them both off of their feet and onto their backs into the dirt. 

Spike righted himself quicker than Gambit, sitting up to find the other man still lying face-down on the earth. He pushed himself over to Gambit, gently shoving him over and asking, “Are you alright?”

Gambit stared up at him, eyes alert and still startled. He placed a hand over his chest. “Yeah, yeah- don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

Gambit sat up, staring out across the field before back up at Spike. “You’d think I would’ve figured out how to not make myself explode at this point, but here we are.”

Spike took Gambit’s hand in his, checking it over. He’d nearly hurt himself, but it seemed fine. Gambit pulled his hand away, raising it up to cup Spike’s cheek. “Are _you_ alright?”

Spike laughed, but Gambit’s troubled gaze shut him up. Spike brushed Gambit’s hand from his cheek, leaning back. “I’m fine. Not much that can hurt me, luv, honest.”

Gambit held his gaze silently, and Spike sat still, admittedly shaken. The cicadas, which had hushed in response to the loud explosions, were back in full swing, their buzz breaking through the silence that lingered between Spike and Gambit. Finally, Gambit leaned over, eyeing Spike intently. He licked his lips. “I’d like to kiss you again.”

“Well, go on, then,” Spike replied. “What are you waiting for?”

Gambit was on top of him in a blink of an eye, elbows planted on each side of Spike’s head as Gambit kissed him, deeply, roughly. Spike moaned, meeting his lips with equal fervor, liking the way Gambit instinctively tangled his fingers through Spike’s hair. He lost himself in Gambit’s kiss, his touch, the smell of his cologne and the dirt and the lingering cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes. 

Gambit smelled surprisingly human, or nearly human- something about his scent was off, different from the everyday man. Spike didn’t know why and couldn’t know, unless he asked. And currently his mouth was occupied with a different task. He decided it wasn’t really a pressing issue, especially when Gambit’s hips grinded against his as Gambit moved his lips to Spike’s collarbone.

Spike cursed, a shiver washing over him as the pleasure intensified; it was almost too much, and it didn’t help that Gambit’s hands were beginning to explore down his chest and stomach. Spike’s jeans were beginning to tighten and he shifted uncomfortable, fighting the urge to rip his pants off right there in the middle of an abandoned roadway.

“Gambit,” Spike hissed as Gambit took Spike’s earlobe in his teeth. “What if we moved this someplace private.”

Gambit propped himself up on one arm, pulling his face up from Spike’s neck. Gambit smiled cheekily. “Why, that sounds like you’re inviting yourself to my room, _mon ami_.”

Spike’s nostrils flared. “Well, it’s either that or you’re gonna end up sucking me off out here in the middle of nowhere, and I thought it might be better for your pride if we continued this soiree somewhere else.”

Gambit smirked, pulling himself off of Spike slowly. He stood, straightening himself as he took a step away before looking back at Spike on the ground. “Well, come on. I’ll admit we’re a bit of a ride away from my hotel, and we best get going so you don’t lose interest in me.”

Spike quirked an eyebrow, shoving himself up off the ground, stumbling after Gambit. “You’d better floor it.”

They mounted the bike, Spike wrapping his legs around Gambit once again. Gambit revved the engine, pausing to glance back and wink at Spike before speeding off. 

Spike settled his head against Gambit’s back, allowing himself to relax against the other man. Excitement for what laid ahead made his stomach flip, and he found himself eyeing the back of Gambit’s neck, fighting the urge to press his mouth against it. 

_Fuck it_ , he thought, hovering his mouth centimeters above the skin and gently blowing on it. Gambit shivered, the bike shifting in its path just in the slightest. He heard Gambit curse under his breath, a mixture of some French and something else, slang that Spike wasn’t familiar with. Spike placed his open mouth kiss against his neck, experimentally grazing the skin with his tongue. 

In response, Gambit accelerated, calling over his shoulder a wave of expletives. He turned a corner sharply, muttering, “You’re gonna regret that if you keep it up, _cher_.”

Spike paused, considering his options. Then he made one. He bit down gently, moving his hands and planting them on Gambit’s thighs, slowly inching towards his crotch. Gambit bucked his hips, exhaling shakily. 

Spike liked being in control, liked feeling the other person quiver and shake at his efforts. It had been awhile since he’d had the opportunity to do this kind of thing with someone other than Drusilla, and as he dug his fingers into Gambit’s thigh, he realized just how much he missed this, missed learning a stranger’s body and the ways to make them shiver and twist in pleasure. It was the novelty that was enticing; something new, something pretty and shiny, something he’s yet to touch. Something he has yet to fuck up. 

Gambit turned onto another street and soon after turned into the parking lot of a hotel. Gambit parked the bike quickly, nearly leaping off. Spike smirked; Gambit looked damn near ready to drag him into the hotel by his hand. Torn between a need to infuriate Gambit and take meticulously long to follow after him and a need to get himself off, Spike dropped the pretense fairly quickly and sped after Gambit, calling out, “You got anything else to drink, Gambit?”

Gambit threw him back a sly smile over his shoulder. “What a ridiculous question. Of course I do.”

They entered the elevator, and Gambit hit the button to take them to the sixth floor. This stilled them; they could not control the speed at which they reached Gambit’s floor, and suddenly they had a moment between them. Shitty muzak spilled in through the speakers, and the elevator hummed as it passed each level. 

Gambit took the moment to allow his eyes to graze over Spike. He raised a hand to his face, rubbing it over his stumbled chin as he chuckled. “I can’t promise that the room won’t be a mess.”

“Do you want to make it one?”

Something in Gambit’s gaze flickered, lust perhaps, and once more Spike found himself marveling at Gambit’s eyes. They were terrifying and provocative all at once, and it ignited something powerful in Spike. He wet his lips, aware that Gambit was still watching him; he hoped that it aroused him. 

The elevator slowed in speed. Spike prepared for it to stop, ready to step out, when Gambit crossed the space between them and grabbed Spike by his face, kissing him fiercely. Spike pushed him against the wall of the elevator, satisfied by the light thud Gambit’s back made as it settled against it. He halted in his kiss only momentarily, and when he kissed again it was with such ferocity that Spike forgot where they were, and it was only when the elevator dinged and doors began to open that he released Gambit and stepped back. There were better places to continue this than in an elevator.

Gambit stepped ahead of Spike, trailing a few feet ahead to lead him to his room. It was at this point that Spike realized that this hotel was much nicer than he had expected. Not that he had gone into this thinking they’d end up in a dodgy motel on the side of the road, but he certainly hadn’t expected something so… expensive. Hell, a grimy motel was- if Spike was being honest- what he was hoping for: something about a room like that just added to the overall sense that what they were doing was rushed and wild and just for one evening. Money slowed him down, made him curious. He couldn’t wait to see the room.

Gambit stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall, pulling out his keycard. He swiped the card and the door unlocked, and soon Gambit was holding the door open for Spike, smiling. All Gambit seemed to do was smile; Spike had to wonder if it was a reaction he’d taught himself to take on naturally. Like for gambling, he needed to be able to lie well. 

The room was big- bigger than the type of place Spike would normally find a single person renting out for themselves, with a living room space and a bedroom with two queen beds, one made up and one clearly slept in, separated by a door and a bathroom to the side. The living room had a large kitchenette and a minibar, although whether it was set up by the hotel staff or of Gambit’s own making, Spike wasn’t sure.

Gambit threw his coat aside, and for the first time in proper lighting, Spike got a good look at Gambit’s arms, the definition of his muscles amplified by the tight-fitting black shirt he wore. Gambit scruffed up his own hair, moving his bangs out of his eyes, taking a moment to settle into being back at his own room before turning, clasping his hands together. “Right, I’ll get you another drink. Same as from the bar?”

Spike nodded, slowly pulling off his own jacket. He settled down on the sofa, finding it to be relatively uncomfortable despite how pretty it looked. Figured.

Gambit turned, drinks in hand, and he passed one off to Spike, who took it with a nod of thanks. Gambit sipped his own for a moment, eyes watching Spike, before finally speaking. “You’re quite pale, _mon ami_.”

“Well, we aren’t all from New Orleans and the hot southern sun, now are we?”

The end of Gambit’s lips quirked up in a humored smile. “You best not even try saying the name. Sounds all twisted and wrong in your tongue.”

Spike snorted, drinking from his glass again. He waited a moment, letting the bourbon wash down his throat, taking the time to sit in the burn. He spread out on the sofa, attempting to make himself comfortable despite how stiff the cushions were. “Didn’t take you to be the type of guy who’d spend his nights in a place like this.”

“Oh, well,” Gambit replied. “I am a man who likes the small things in life. Taking pleasure in simple comforts here and there.”

Spike tilted his head. “Let me guess- not your money paying for the room?”

Gambit laughed. No answer; they both knew that Spike didn’t need one. Instead, Spike asked, “Why this room, then? Why the choice of two beds? Could’ve probably saved a little bit of money and splurged elsewhere.”

“One to sleep in, one to… well, you know.” 

“Right.” Spike placed his glass down on one of the end tables; when he pulled back to settle back into his spot, he found that Gambit had moved closer, now standing just over Spike. Spike swallowed, trying to seem nonchalant. “Had many people over so far?”

“Nah, I’ve been a lil’ busy,” Gambit replied. Suddenly, he lowered down onto his knees, placing his drink down on the nearest coffee table before leaning over Spike, arms outstretched on either side of him as he held his face inches away from Spike’s. He spoke in a quiet, raspy tone, “But I’ve got some free time now.”

Spike opened his mouth to speak but Gambit was already focused on his next task, fingers nimbly undoing the buckle of Spike’s belt. Spike exhaled sharply, surprised by Gambit’s sudden taking of initiative, raising his hips so that Gambit could pull the belt from its loops and throw it off over his shoulder. 

Gambit kissed him. 

“I have a feeling,” he said, moving his lips to Spike’s cheekbone. “That you’re one to take control.” 

Now to his neck. 

“And while I’m all for letting a man dominate the hell out of me-” 

His collarbone. 

“-That’s not what’s gonna happen here. Not right now.”

Gambit pulled away just enough so that he could meet Spike’s eyes again. Spike swallowed hard, his pants achingly tight. _Fucking hell_.

Gambit sat up, moving his hands from the sofa to Spike’s thighs. His gaze swallowed up everything, Spike realized. Spike was unable to look away, unable to try and gain back the control he so liked to maintain. And to his surprise, he found that he didn’t mind losing control in the way he thought he’d had, especially when he was losing control to a man like Gambit.

Gambit swept his palm over Spike’s left thigh to Spike’s crotch, applying pressure right on his throbbing erection. Spike hissed, biting back a moan and Gambit chuckled. “Pants are looking a lil’ tight. Uncomfortable.”

Spike’s hands gripped at the back of the sofa, steadying himself as he shot a glare at Gambit, which only made Gambit’s grin widen. He was too handsome for his own good; the smile thickened Spike’s throat, and he found that he wanted to let Gambit take control, let him take over. God, where the hell had he gotten a shirt that fit so well? And the jeans- when was the last time he had met a man who looked so good in an old pair of jeans?

Spike swallowed, relaxing into the sofa as Gambit eased his hand away from Spike’s erection and back on his thigh. He attempted to play cool, attempting to gain back his composure. “Best take them off, then.”

Gambit leaned back. “I could do that.”

“You _will_ do that,” Spike replied, glowering. 

“Alright,” Gambit said, slowly, reaching for the zipper of Spike’s pants. “I will do that.”

He unbuttoned the button on Spike’s pants with nimble fingers. As his fingers secured on the zipper, Gambit leaned up again, kissing Spike deeply once more as he brought the zipper down. His hands rose, mouth still latched onto Spike’s, and wrapped around the waistline of the jeans; Spike stiffened at the touch of Gambit’s warm hands against his skin, releasing a breathy exhale as Gambit’s fingers slid deeper down Spike’s hips. 

Gambit tilted his head, curious it seemed, and pulled his face back an inch. “No boxers? Brave choice.”

He moved his lips over to Spike’s neck once more, kissing it as he stilled his hands momentarily, taking his sweet time to play with Spike and explore his skin. Spike heard him murmur, lips behind Spike’s ear, “Skin’s cold. Need warming up?”

Spike laughed, although it halted with a sharp inhale as Gambit bit down gently on that spot. “Always.”

He slowly pulled the pants down past Spike’s hips, keeping his face in the crook of Spike’s neck. The intimacy of it all made Spike shiver, and he breathed a sigh of relief as Gambit pulled the jeans down to Spike’s thighs, freeing as erection. Gambit remained occupied with Spike’s neck in that moment, despite Spike’s hardened cock sitting up between them. Spike cursed, arching his back; he felt the fabric of Gambit’s shirt just graze the head, and he shuddered faintly. “Will you just _touch_ me already, mate?”

“I can do more than that,” Gambit replied, mouth grazing Spike’s jaw.

Suddenly, he dropped, falling back on his knees as Gambit took him into his mouth. Spike gasped, throwing his head back as the sudden heat of Gambit’s mouth overtook him, stiffening as pleasure washed over him. He gripped the back of the couch tightly, opening his eyes to watch Gambit slowly remove his mouth off the head, beginning to outline it with the tip of his tongue. 

He swept his tongue up the side of it before wrapping his mouth around it once more, this time lowering his head so that he took more of Spike’s cock into his mouth. Spike moaned, the sound hitching as Gambit reached over and wrapped his hand around the base. Spike shut his eyes again, leaning his head back once more, his hips bucking up as Gambit’s tongue grazed once more over the head. 

Just when he was beginning to get used to the feeling was when Gambit decided to quicken the pace, tightening his grip as he bobbed his head up and down, tongue swirling. Spike made to close his thighs, needing to tighten his grip on something, sure that if he didn’t have something to bear down on he would snap. Gambit felt him do this and stopped him, pinning down one of Spike’s thighs with his free hand. 

Spike risked a look down, wanting to glare down at Gambit, but then he met Gambit’s eyes, saw the spark in them. Gambit removed his mouth from Spike’s cock, his lips lingering just barely on the surface. 

Again, Gambit smiled. 

Spike swallowed, watching as Gambit took him once more into his mouth; again, his pace quickened, halting Spike’s thoughts from wherever they had wanted to go. He couldn’t be angry or annoyed in this moment, not when he was too distracted with what Gambit was doing with his tongue. And his hand. Alright, so maybe this wasn’t Gambit’s first time doing this sort of thing. His skill reflected at least some familiarity with the subject, after all. 

The pleasure was beginning to mount, and Spike dropped one hand down, tangling his fingers into Gambit’s hair. Gambit moaned encouragingly and Spike tightened his grip, fisting his fingers as he gently pushed at Gambit’s head, an attempt to take back control, wanting things to move at a faster, rougher pace. He bucked his hips as Gambit doubled down, holding tightening on Spike’s thigh as he bobbed his head up and down with such force that Spike’s hand gripping the back of the sofa was white from clenching onto the back’s frame. 

Gambit hummed, an approving noise, a noise prompting him to be vocal, and Spike moaned, louder this time, cursing under his breath Gambit’s name, cursing his inability to hold off longer but who could really blame him when the bloke who’s mouth he was fucking was allowing Spike to slam his cock deep into his throat?

“ _Fuck_ , I’m getting close, I’m getting really close, I’m-”

Spike came with a jolt, his body arching off of the sofa as his hands wrapped around Gambit’s head. Gambit took his sweet time, slowly sucking at Spike’s softening cock with the same fervor as when Spike had been seconds away from coming moments ago. At Spike’s gentle shoving, Gambit released Spike’s cock from his mouth, lazily dragging his tongue up the side before finally leaning back on his feet, wiping his mouth with the side of his arm. 

Spike relaxed against the sofa, sighing happily. “Well, you sure know what you’re doing.”

“Years of practice, _mon ami_ , years of practice.”

Eyes still glued to the ceiling as he gathered himself, Spike shoved himself back into his jeans, zipping them up. He was beginning to gain feeling back in his hands again. “I just need another moment, then it’s your turn.”

He heard Gambit chuckle. “Take your time. I ain’t going anywhere.”

Gambit picked his drink back up from the coffee table, taking a long swig before falling back on the sofa besides Spike, eyes trailing around the room. “Guess you’re right about the beds,” he said. “Could just go for a king instead. Might be more fun.”

“Best to keep that in mind next time you’re picking up strange men in this city,” Spike replied, sitting up. He reached for his own drink, taking a tentative sip. He spread his legs out another inch, finding himself to still be a little sensitive.

“I don’t think you’re strange.”

Spike swallowed a mouthful of bourbon, glancing Gambit’s way. Gambit was watching him with deep, inquisitive eyes, yearning for… something. Conversation, maybe? Spike couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I suppose it wouldn’t make sense for _you_ to find someone to be strange and off-putting.”

Gambit paused, glass at his lips, then sipped, silent. Spike looked him over, unable to read Gambit’s reaction, and tentatively, Spike said, “Meant nothing by that. I think your eyes are quite something, if I’m being honest.”

Again, a pause. Gambit rested his hand with the drink in it on his thigh, leaning back against the sofa. When he spoke again, he spoke with a smile, and there was a noticeable change in the air as whatever had just passed between them faded. “Tell me ‘bout yourself.”

Spike’s eyebrows knitted together. “I already told me about myself-”

“-And you only really told me where you were from,” Gambit answered. He laughed. “Come on, tell me what you like, what you’re into. What do you do for fun?”

Spike readjusted himself, turning his body to face in on Gambit more rather than out and across the room. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

Spike considered his answer. Killing and draining people didn’t really seem to be the answer Gambit was looking for, regardless of how accurate it was. Spike looked away slyly, focusing down on his drink as he smirked. “I think it might ruin your image of me, but I love mindless, shit television. Soap operas, what-have-you. That kind of thing.”

He could _hear_ Gambit’s grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Absolutely not. Nothing I love more than sitting back with a bottle of wine and no one bothering me.” He brought his glass up to his lips, finishing it off before adding, “Don’t even think about laughing. I’m sure you’ve got your own habits that are just as ridiculous.”

“I didn’t say it was ridiculous! Those are your own words!” Gambit shoved him playfully, and Spike found himself laughing along. After a moment, Gambit continued, “But don’t get me wrong, I love spending a night marathoning a show.”

“Yeah? What do you end up watching?”

Gambit snorted, amused at his own tastes. “ _Star Trek: The Next Generation_.”

Spike cackled. After gathering himself, he said, “Look at us. Taking on this tough guy exterior when really we’re just like the rest of ‘em.”

“Oh, like you would have followed me here if I’d sat down next to you and started talking about why Picard is a better captain.”

They got on like this for a while. Spike was enjoying himself; he’d followed after Gambit because the man intrigued him, with his eyes and references to a past that didn’t exactly make much sense, and yeah, it helped that Gambit was also incredibly attractive. But they got on well; banter came easily, and they found they could talk about their interests, even if they weren’t watching the same shows. Hell, if Spike hadn’t had goals of getting Drusilla back, he might’ve considered hanging around Vegas with Gambit for a while. Nothing serious, just going along for the ride. Having fun. 

It just sounded nice, that was all. Lighthearted. Didn’t find that kind of thing often as a vampire.

Hours passed, and Spike began to crave a smoke. Gambit must have been having a similar itch because as soon as Spike opened his mouth to ask to bum another, Gambit was pulling out his pack, pulling one out for himself before flinging the pack to Spike. 

Before Spike could ask for a light, Gambit whipped out a playing card. As Spike watched, the card began to glow intensely as the others did before, and then he held it up to his own cigarette, lighting it. 

The cigarette nearly fell out of Spike’s mouth.

Gambit reached over and lit Spike’s cigarette the same way, their faces only inches apart once more. Spike inhaled, breathing in deeply as Gambit pulled away, smirking. Spike blew smoke out the side of his mouth, holding the cigarette between two fingers as he eyed Gambit. “Christ.”

“What?”

Spike took another deep puff from his cigarette. “Moment I finish this, it’s your turn.”

Gambit’s eyes flashed, exhaling smoke. “You better finish it fast, then.”

Another hour passed right under their noses, them distracted once more by each other’s mouths on each other’s bodies to realize that the morning hours were nearing. Another round of pillowtalk fell to the wayside as Spike’s eyes trailed over to the small clock that the hotel provided, informing him that it was just past 5AM. He sat up in bed sharply, startling Gambit.

“I’ve got to head out. You know… daytime fast approaching and all.”

When Spike said this, he meant _since I’m a vampire and all, and I don’t want to sizzle up into a pile of ash_. Unbeknownst to Spike, Gambit took this to mean _I have work in the morning_. Gambit sat up in bed, watching Spike pull his shirt back on, Gambit’s own shirt discarded somewhere by the couch. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Gambit said.

Spike chuckled. Unlikely. Still, maybe it was the look in Gambit’s eyes or it was the fact that they seemed to get each other, but Spike found himself smiling as he said, “Maybe.”


	2. Pay For My Coffee and Leave Before the Sun Goes Down

Vegas is a city of seemingly endless opportunity, which Spike has seized with fervent delight. He’d let it get to his head, and yes, he was being a bit messy in his killings, careless really, but why not live a little? Not like there was anyone around to stop him, anyhow. Too big of a city with too little forces investigating everything that creeped in the night. Spike smirked; no Slayer or pretty boy Angel to get in his way, not here.

Five days had passed since his stint with that Gambit fellow, and Spike was on a roll, drinking and gambling his way through bars and casinos. He’d made a bit of cash then promptly lost it, although it hadn’t taken much to get it back. Well, a bit difficult to lure the chap away from the table, but it worked out fine in the end. 

Spike finished shoveling the last few remaining bills from the man’s pockets into his own before shoving the limp body away from him. He dusted himself off, straightened up, then made his way out of the casino, feeling full and content. He fancied a drink and something to nibble on right about now. 

He entered his car and drove off with the windows open, inhaling deeply as crisp evening wind rushed over him, enjoying the smell of it. He didn’t have a destination in mind, riding down roads that caught his eye, but soon he found himself somewhere familiar, and he realized he was nearing that same bar from before. He considered this for a moment; surely there were other bars, better bars, to check out. Might be worth it to try something new. Still… he knew for certain that this bar had a pool table, and damn if he wasn’t tempted by the prospect of playing a round or two. Returning to this place beat having to search around for another. And maybe…. 

He turned in, slowing the car to a halt as he parked the car. 

He entered, met with a hazy wall of smoke. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the environment: there were less people here than the other night, although Spike supposed it was still a bit early. He ordered himself a beer, waiting for it on a barstool before heading towards the small room on the side that housed the pool table and two smaller tables. 

Spike poked his head in the room, groaning. The table was in use by another man already, playing by himself. He didn’t hear Spike approach, instead bent down and focused on the cue in his hand. Spike nearly turned away when the man shifted, tossing his hair to the side, and Spike got a glimpse of the man’s facial features and-

_His eyes._

Spike chuckled, loud enough that the man stilled, turning sharply with his face set hard, lips tight. Almost immediately, Gambit’s features softened and he smirked, setting the pool cue on the ground before leaning on it nonchalantly. “Well, well, well, what d’you know.”

Spike crossed his arms over his chest, taking a moment to look Gambit over. “What are you doing back here? Aren’t there a million other places you could be?”

“Could ask you the same,” Gambit replied. He didn’t have to. They both knew the answer to that question. Gambit nodded at the pool table. “Would you like to play a round?”

Spike freed a cue from the stand as Gambit removed sunk balls from the table, moving them all to the center of the table. Spike chalked the tip, nodding at Gambit as he did so. “What have you been doing these past few days, then? Staying out of trouble?”

The glint to Gambit’s eyes said otherwise. “No, never. You?”

“Might have caused a bit of distress here and there,” Spike replied. “Done some gambling, done some drinking. You know, nothing out of the usual for me.”

“Do you want to break?” Gambit asked, stepping back from the table as he set the cue ball in its place.

Spike shook his head, running a hand through his hair, ensuring that it was still slicked back. He walked over to one of the small tables and took a sip from his beer, then set it down. “You go ahead.”

Gambit ended up with solids, nailing the yellow one-ball. He (less than discreetly) fist-pumped, throwing a prideful look Spike’s way as he set up to aim at another solid. Spike rolled his eyes, although he found himself smiling. He sipped once more from his beer, glad to see that this time Gambit missed, and he stood, taking his spot at the table.

Gambit sauntered around to the side, watching Spike take his shot. Spike missed, distracted by Gambit’s presence and he cursed; Gambit, meanwhile, laughed. “Oh come on, _mon ami_ , you gotta do better than that! I thought I was gonna play against someone who knew what they were doing.”

Scowling, Spike stepped back. “Just a bad shot. Watch yourself, mate, you’ll be eating those words later.”

Gambit laughed, a sharp, light sound that brought a smile to Spike’s own face. “You a betting man, Spike? Want to make this game a little more interesting?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed and he chuckled. “I’m always interested in upping the stakes. What are you thinking- fifty bucks?”

Gambit drew back the cue and hit the ball, shooting it with precision as another solid knocked its way into one of the side pockets. He met Spike’s gaze. “I’m game.”

Aware that he was entering a bet he’d likely lose, Spike took a swig from his beer again before coming up close to Gambit. Really close. Gambit exhaled slowly, stiffening; he glanced back at Spike, wetting his lips, before moving his attention back to the table, rearing back to hit the cue ball.

He missed.

“I’m not so sure I’ll be a good loser if you’re gonna keep pulling shit like this,” Gambit murmured, turning to look at Spike. “Although I can’t say that you haven’t gotten my attention.”

Spike lingered, cocking his head to the side. “Well, how about once we finish this game, we take a break outside? Regardless of winner or loser.”

Gambit’s eyebrow quirked, something flashing in his eyes. He stepped away from the table and gestured to it with flourish, allowing Spike to take his turn. Spike took his shot, and to his chagrin, missed the shot, instead nailing one of the solids into a pocket for Gambit. 

Gambit, in response, grinned in a taunting manner. “Spike, are you making it this easy on purpose?”

Spike growled, shooting Gambit a glare. “Maybe I’m just a little distracted tonight. Lucky you, able to play no matter the circumstances.”

Gambit stared at him for a moment, a smile slowly growing on his expression. “Am I crazy, or is that you just throwing a compliment my way? Something, something, I’m a distraction- does that mean you think I’m pretty?”

He batted his eyelashes and Spike scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You can’t expect me to answer that.”

Gambit pouted his lips, staring at him with wide, forlorn eyes before dropping the act, laughing hard. They continued their game; by the time they finished, Spike was done with his drink and seriously done with this game, having his ass handed to him by Gambit. Gambit’s win only left him leaning over on his pool cue, grinning cockily as Spike stared at him through narrowed eyes. 

Spike swallowed hard, gesturing with his chin towards the bar exit. “Outside. Now.”

Gambit’s jaw shifted, his face otherwise still. “For a smoke?”

“You damn well know what I mean.”

The sharp pain of Spike’s back slamming against the brick wall of the bar was dampened by the softness of Gambit’s mouth on his own, paired with the the soft evening chill of a breeze that brought a shiver to Spike’s neck as the chill met the wet spot where Gambit’s mouth had recently vacated. Spike kissed Gambit back eagerly, further incited by Gambit’s own hums of pleasure.

“I don’t often do this,” Gambit murmured in one of the few moments that his lips had released Spike’s own. 

Spike smiled. “Do what?”

“Hook back up again. ‘Specially so soon after the first... meeting. I mean, shit, some would consider this a second date.”

At this, Spike laughed. “A date? No.” He pressed his lips against Gambit’s jawline, and Gambit lifted his head up an inch to give Spike easier access. “But maybe you should find yourself revisiting old flames more often. They’re all missing out by you holding back on them.”

Gambit scoffed- well, it must have been a scoff initially, but as Spike grazed his teeth against Gambit’s neck, Gambit shuddered, the scoff breaking off into a gasp of pleasure. Before Spike could continue, Gambit’s mouth reclaimed his own, his hands planting themselves firmly on Spike’s hips as his fingers nimbly dug themselves under Spike’s shirt, skimming themselves upward toward his chest. They slid back down, toward the button of Spike’s pants, hands lingering with just enough pressure that faint pangs of pleasure shot through Spike.

Spike was moaning out his own praises as Gambit’s mouth latched onto his neck when footsteps approached before promptly halting, a man’s voice cursing from behind them, paired with a sound, a scoff of disgust. “Fucking hell. Can’t you be doing that kinda shit elsewhere? No one wants to see that shit.”

The man spit; Spike stiffened and he made to move out from under Gambit, but Gambit only further wrapped himself against Spike, deepening their kiss. Meanwhile, he withdrew his hands from Spike’s body, fumbling around in his jacket pockets before pulling out a card. Without looking, he charged the card and flung it in the approximate area behind them.

First Spike heard the explosion and then the man curse; against his mouth, Spike felt Gambit smile. “This is fun,” Gambit murmured against Spike’s lips before rejoining them again, and he seemed convinced that they would be able to continue in this manner with no further interruptions.

That was, before Gambit was violently ripped off of Spike and thrown to the ground. The man was taller than Spike had expected, a few inches over six foot, and while scrawny, there was a look to his eyes that would fill anyone’s gut with fear.

Well, almost anyone’s.

The man reared back to kick Gambit in the side but just as his foot made impact, Spike leapt for him, knocking him over before grabbing hold of the man’s arms and pulling him up onto his feet. Spike swung his arm, punching the man hard in the jaw, watching him fall onto the ground with a satisfied grin on his face. It was quickly replaced with a frown, however, as the man jumped up quickly, albeit unsteadily, sneering at them. 

Gambit was standing again, and from his expression, Spike could tell that Gambit was _pissed_. Cards in hands, Gambit began to pace, eyeing down the man with a look akin to disgust growing over his expression. 

Spike stepped forward, dodging the man’s crazed lunge for him before nailing him with another punch to the face, relishing the sound of the groan he made as he staggered backward. 

The man fought his way back onto his feet, careening towards Gambit, who jumped out of the way, now facing out towards the parking lot. He charged a card and flung it, aiming at the man’s head, but the man was too quick and he dipped, leaning off to the side as Gambit’s charged card flew a few feet past him and instead hit a bike, exploding into shrapnel with a sound that most definitely alerted the bar patrons that something was happening in the parking lot.

There was a moment of silence following the explosion before Gambit cursed.

The card had hit his own bike.

Spike sucked air in through gritted teeth, shooting Gambit an apologetic look. The man noticed this look between the two and smirked, beginning to laugh. 

An ember of rage flickered to life deep in Spike’s chest, and under his breath he growled, “Oh, bugger this,” before shooting himself at the man, barely taking in the look of fear in the man’s eyes before slamming him hard against the brick wall, Spike’s face changing as he opened his mouth wide to bite down on the man’s neck, beginning to drain him. 

This was the bit that never got old for Spike: the way the man squirmed underneath him before giving way, growing weaker and more submissive as Spike drained the blood out of him, his own body buzzing with excitement, a drone in his ears as he held onto the man one last moment, making sure the job was finished before letting the man fall at his feet, dead. 

Spike was wiping the remnants of blood from his lips when he realized that the sound that had been buzzing in his ears at a low murmur this whole time was in fact the sound of Gambit cursing frantically and not the low hum of excited energy he had assumed it to be as he was draining the man now dead on the ground.

“What the _fuck_ was that? _Hello_?” Gambit’s eyes were glued on the man, but they jumped up frantically as he gestured to the ground, locking with Spike’s eyes only for a moment. “You can’t- _what just happened_? Is he dead?”

Spike blinked. What kind of question was that? Gambit was a demon, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he seen a vampire drain someone before? And even if he _hadn’t_ , wasn’t it obvious?

Spike opened his mouth to reply but suddenly Gambit was looking around them, his body language stiffening as he straightened. “We have to run.”

Spike gaped at him, scoffing. “What? Why?”

“We. Have. An. Audience,” Gambit hissed, enunciating each word in a sharp whisper.

Unfortunately, Gambit was right; people had begun spilling out of the bar in search of what had made such a loud noise, and were beginning to crowd around the two frazzled looking men who had an unmoving body laying between them. 

Gambit split first, and Spike chased after. Over his shoulder, Gambit called out, “My bike is trashed- do you have a ride?”

Spike rushed ahead, guiding Gambit toward his car before climbing in, grateful that he had left it unlocked. He’d figured no one in their right mind would ever steal a car that looked like his.

Gambit seemed to only prove his point.

“Jesus- what the hell is all of this? How the fuck can you see with the dashboard all covered up like that?”

If they weren’t currently trying to flee, Spike thought he would have laughed. The car had been modded by himself, although he supposed that was obvious, to keep sunlight out as much as possible so that he could drive and rest in it during the day. It was, arguably, a pigsty, but to be fair, he hadn’t expected to have any guests in it, especially a guest being someone he’d hoped to still impress. He was aware that the mess in the car didn’t exactly fit the bad boy image he’d been working on maintaining.

_Impress_. Spike fought back the urge to roll his eyes. He sounded like a teenaged boy.

“You alright?” Spike asked, zipping out of the parking lot and back onto the main road.

“Oh sure, I’m perfectly fine. Completely normal night even, absolutely wonderful- of _course_ I’m not fine, what kind of question is that! _Merde_.”

A slew of curses expelled from Gambit’s lips, a conglomerate of French and English, a patois from his raising in Louisiana. A moment of silence passed and Spike almost thought that Gambit had calmed down: Gambit had settled back into his seat and propped his boots up on the dash, locking his eyes on the covered dashboard in front of him.

Which seemed to only remind him of his rage.

“Seriously, what the _fuck_ is this? What the fuck is any of this? What happened back there, I’m serious! ” Gambit gestured frantically at everything around him. Spike only pressed his foot against the gas, jostling Gambit in his seat as he turned sharply onto the highway. Gambit lurched forward before falling back against the car seat, glaring Spike’s way. “What you did was stupid- I don’t know _what_ you did, but you can’t just kill a man and leave him there like that. ‘Specially when we had a crowd of people surrounding us.”

Spike gave him an amused look. “I can’t just…? See, now that’s funny.” He paused, eyes flicking back to the road before adding, “I drained him. Isn’t that obvious?”

From the blank look on Gambit’s expression, Spike supposed it wasn’t. Spike frowned, annoyed that he’d have to dumb it down so much for Gambit to get it. He’d thought the other man was smarter than this.

“I’m a vampire,” said Spike slowly. “Yeah? You know what that is?”

A flicker of recognition crossed Gambit’s eyes and his face shifted, but his expression quickly hardened. He let it linger there for a moment, both sitting in silence. “Huh.”

They drove like that for a while, uncomfortably silent, Spike’s eyes searching to the best of his ability to see if they were being followed. He couldn’t be too sure, and really, he didn’t care; unlike Gambit, who for some reason was turning out to be much more of a pacifist than Spike had expected, Spike himself didn’t see a problem with having to resort to a fight, breaking a few heads along the way. 

Spike had met a few of these softer demons before, and he didn’t really get it. To each their own, he supposed, but where was the fun in being peaceful. At least Gambit didn’t seem against a fight. Sort of annoying, though, that he got all high-and-mighty when it came to draining and killing. 

Gambit cleared his throat, a question forming on his lips, and Spike glanced his way. Gambit hastily met his eyes before looking back at the dashboard, preferring to look at nothing than meet Spike’s gaze as he asked his next question. “Are you gonna… drain me too, then?”

Spike chuckled out, “Do you want to be?” but Gambit paled at his response and with a roll of his eyes, Spike added, “Drain a demon? I would never. Besides, you probably taste awful. No offense.”

Spike laughed, but Gambit remained quiet, his eyes still locked on one spot ahead of him. However, his eyes narrowed, as if he was meticulously considering something, calculating a thought that Spike couldn’t guess on his own. He allowed for the moment to sit there, letting Gambit work through whatever it was that he was distracted by. 

Gambit’s eyes suddenly widened and he looked over at Spike sharply. “Oh- right. Yes. My eyes. That’s how you… knew.”

Spike huffed, his patience wearing thin. “You said it yourself, mister “white devil” or whatever they called you.”

“ _Le Diable Blanc_ ,” Gambit murmured. 

Again, a silence fell. This whole conversation was growing stale, if you asked Spike. He was nearly about to turn on his radio or throw a tape in when he heard Gambit ask, “How old are you?”

Gambit’s tone was curious, no longer tense as it had been, but his words were pitchy, as if this information was still settling in. Spike found himself smiling faintly, his age being a sort of badge of honor to him. “Well, let’s see. I was born in 1853 so that makes me about-”

“-145 years old. Give or take.” Gambit’s forehead furrowed as he reflected on this before a look of understanding passed over his expression. He nodded at the dashboard. “Ah, so that explains whatever the hell is going on right here.”

“How old are you?” Spike asked, glancing over at Gambit. Gambit simply smirked.

“Twenty-seven.”

Spike nearly lost control of the car, swerving back into their lane, cars honking at them as he gaped at Gambit. “What! You’re just a kid! Here I thought you’d be at least in your forties.”

Gambit scowled. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”

Spike watched him for a moment. “What even _are_ you?”

Gambit had, up until this moment, remained relatively put-together, but at this question he seemed to falter, his lip quivering before he swallowed hard, sticking his chin out. “I don’t know.”

Spike decided not to press it. Many demons didn’t really know their lineage, especially in cases like Gambit’s appeared to be, where he was adopted off the street by a random family. Made sense for him not to know who he was or what species he was connected to. 

This time, when the silence fell, Spike turned up the volume and played one of his old tapes of some random band he’d seen perform in some dodgy hole in the wall a few years back. He still wasn’t quite sure he liked their sound, but the tape was free so he’d figured he’d listen to it. Snagged it out of some woman’s purse after pulling her off to the side at that very show. 

A song ended and then another. The third one started before Gambit reached forward and turned the volume down, just low enough so that he could speak. “So… that man….”

“He’s dead.”

Gambit gave him a pointed look but moved on. “Right. What- what do we do from here? I’m- look, I’m not a perfect person myself, I’ve been on the run before- but that’s what we’re going to have to do, right? Be on the run?” Spike remained silent and Gambit added firmly, “Because people _saw_ us, Spike. A whole crowd of people. And no offense, but your car is, er, pretty much the opposite of inconspicuous. We’ll be chased down for sure.”

Spike grinned. “Well, I could always kill them, too,” he replied jokingly. Gambit shot him back a strained look and Spike groaned. “Oh come on, don’t make me stick to your pacifist bullshit. You can’t seriously expect me to play by your rules just because you’re squeamish about the idea of killing someone.”

“I’m not-” Gambit sighed, dropping his head into his hands. He took a moment, rubbing his face roughly before looking back up at Spike, his hands still fanned out in front of him. “Look, I’ll do whatever I have to do. Keyword there, _have_. But I don’t want to do shit unless it’s absolutely necessary, you hear me?”

“Seems overly cautious,” Spike muttered and Gambit gritted his teeth.

“Sure, maybe to you. But I’ve had shit seriously blow up on me in the past. I’ve hurt people I didn’t intend on hurting, so _my apologies_ for being a little cautious. I intend to learn from my mistakes, not just ignore them.”

“Alright.” Spike hadn’t been prepared for Gambit’s mocking tone or the seething rage undercutting his words, and despite still disagreeing with Gambit’s overall sentiments, he kept his mouth shut, something he wasn’t prone to do. He was just annoyed that he was now stuck driving around a git who didn’t like killing people. Just because they’d fucked around didn’t mean that Spike had to give the guy a free ride; maybe it would be for the best if Spike just pulled over then and there and dropped Gambit off. After all, Spike was sure that they’d be looking more for the blond-haired man with his odd car than someone of Gambit’s stature. 

But… 

Spike liked Gambit. He liked having him around, liked the kind of man he was, even though Spike wasn’t sure what type of man that was. Demonkind was a tricky thing, after all, made even more tricky by the fact that neither of them seemed to know the type of demon Gambit was. And Gambit’s bike was destroyed in the wreckage of the fight- his own doing, yes, but that left him without a ride- and Spike would be damned if he didn’t at least offer to take Gambit to a bus station. It was the least he could do. 

He scoffed at himself. This was all rather ridiculous; it wasn’t often that Spike found himself wanting to do something nice for another person, but… well, here he was. And dammit if he wasn’t intrigued by the man.

“So who did you hurt, then?”

His question was met with silence and Spike chanced a look away from the road to read Gambit’s expression, which had grown tight, his forehead furrowed. He stared down at the floor mat at his feet. “A lot of people. Strangers of course, but friends. Family. People that I love- thought I loved, rather. Or maybe thought they loved me. I don’t know anymore.”

He sighed, leaning back in his seat as he looked up at the roof. Spike thought that maybe he was willing back tears. “There was this girl-”

“-Always a girl,” Spike replied, which earned him a glare. The glare shifted quickly into a softer look, pained.

“I don’t get truly… _infatuated_ often, _ouais_? There’s always someone catching my eye but it’s not everyday that I really…” he thumped his chest twice with a closed fist, resting it there. “Feel something. I guess I don’t let myself get close to people. Or I try not to. Last time I let someone in….”

He gestured broadly, spreading his hands out in front of him. “Anyway. I let Rogue in. I hurt her. She hasn’t forgiven me, and I don’t know if she ever will. Maybe it’s what I deserve.”

A mile of distance passed before Spike spoke again. “Your family- the one you hurt- this the one from New Orleans?”

Gambit smiled thinly. “Well, I hurt them, too. That’s why I’m not allowed back. But nah, this… group I was a part of, they took me in and now… well, I hurt Rogue the most, but they were all impacted, really.”

“Where are they?” Spike asked, curious. Gambit’s details were vague at best, suggesting a deeper hurt than he let on, even if he was trying to smile about it.

“New York. Westchester. Load of ‘em, and I haven’t seen them in… months. Haven’t heard anything from them either, not directly, although occasionally I hear about them.” 

“That’s rough.”

Spike wondered if this so-called family that Gambit left behind were demons, too. He glanced Gambit over once more and took in the twisted look of hurt that dug into his features and found himself compelled to help. Maybe it was the fact that Gambit didn’t know his past, or maybe it was the fact that they were on the run and they needed to keep driving anyway, but Spike found his next suggestion practically spilling out of his mouth without much thought, as if it was simpler than it was, as if it wasn’t an act of good. 

“Well, since we’re on the run and all, why don’t I take you back up there?”

Gambit turned his head sharply, eyeing Spike with wide eyes. “Pardon?”

An act of good. Who was he becoming?

“Back up to New York. How about I take you there?” Spike eyed him, already unsure of his own offer. “Since your bike got blown up and all. And you’ve been, for the most part, pretty fine with the fact that we _are_ on the run. And I don’t hate your company. Be a good chance to travel the country, too. Haven’t done that in decades, really.”

Gambit seemed skeptical. “I… I don’t know, Spike. I appreciate the offer, really, but I don’t know if they’re ready to see me. ‘Specially if I just show up unannounced.”

“Well, what other options do you have?” Spike replied. “If you want to fix things, you’ve got to face them, got to voice your thoughts and apologize or whatever you need to do to get her back. It’s what I’m doing now. Well, after our whole thing- I’m finding Dru and I’m gonna make her love me again. There’s no other option.”

Gambit sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”

Spike frowned. “And you’re making it sound hard. Come on, man- maybe they’ll tell you to fuck off, but you can’t know for sure, can you? Isn’t it worth the chance?”

Spike’s words lingered for a moment. Finally, Gambit straightened and, with a stiff nod, replied, “Fine. Might as well see what they’ve been up to. Take me to New York.”

A grin grew across Spike’s expression. “There you go, mate! I’ll get you there in no time.” 

He reached forward and turned up the music again and pressed down on the accelerator, laughing brightly to himself as they sped off, hopefully in a direction that no one was following close behind.

\-----

“So, tell me more about being a vampire.”

Spike had been driving for hours at this point, and he glanced over at Gambit, amused. “What’s there to tell? You’ve seen the movies, right? Read the books, watched the soaps. I’m sure you’ve gotten the overall gist of vampirism.”

“Well, _yeah_ , but I mean from your perspective,” Gambit replied. “Like, what have you seen, you know? What’s it been like for you?”

Spike laughed. “You know, for a fellow who didn’t even know about vampires, you sure do calm down real quick.”

At this, Gambit shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve seen a lot of shit. Guess I’ve learned how to catch on quickly and accept things.”

“I still can’t believe there are demons in this world who _don’t_ know that vamps are around.”

“Well,” Gambit replied immediately, “I guess I just thought they were _too_ known to be real. Like- you know- there’s so much folklore surrounding vampires, surely it must be fake, right?”

Gambit’s eyes jumped to Spike quickly, as if he doubted his own hypothesis even as he said it. Spike, however, thought that made sense, but still, he laughed. “You think people came up with this shit on their own? Nope. Vampires. You’ve probably read some ‘fictional’ texts that were written by vampires themselves.”

“Vampires are writers?” Gambit asked, eyebrows raised high. 

Spike smirked. “Ye-up.”

Gambit thought about this for a moment. “Even you?”

Spike paled, sending a sharp anxious look Gambit’s way before looking back at the road. “Maybe we should change the subject.”

This response seemed to thrill Gambit. “Aw, you’re a writer! What have you written? Maybe I’ve heard of it.”

“There’s _no_ way you’ve heard of it,” Spike scoffed. “And besides, I’m not a writer _anymore_. I wrote back when I was alive.” He added softly at the end, “I was a poet.”

Gambit’s face brightened. “ _No_! Really, you?”

Spike shot him a glare, and Gambit laughed, quickly adding, “Wow, a genuine poet. What have you written- _Ooo_ , will you read one to me?”

“Absolutely not,” Spike said, loudly scoffing. 

Gambit pouted. “Please?”

“Are you going to need food? We could pull off somewhere soon,” Spike said, quickly changing the subject. 

Gambit sighed with a pout, then shook his head. “No, I’m not hungry.” He yawned, adding, “Though I should probably rest soon. I’m falling asleep.” 

“Could get you some caffeine?”

Gambit smiled. “I could always go for a cup of coffee.”

A few miles later and Spike pulled into the parking lot of a gas station, letting Gambit run inside as Spike filled up the gas tank. When Gambit returned he had a cup of black coffee in hand and a bag of chips stowed in the crook of his arm and a new pair of shades on.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “New glasses. Cost you much?”

“Dollar-fifty,” he replied, smiling cheekily. “Well, the chips and coffee were. They didn’t notice me taking the shades.”

Gambit slid back into the car, and Spike followed soon after, closing off the gas tank and shutting the door behind him. Gambit sipped his coffee and for a while they drove in silence besides the sound of Gambit finishing off his drink.

“So,” Gambit asked, stretching out his legs in front of him. “Do you burn up while in the sun, or is that a misconception?”

Raising his eyebrows, Spike lifted a hand from the steering wheel, gesturing to the dashboard in front of them. “What, you thought this was just a fashion choice? This is to keep me from dying, mate; thought that one was at least obvious.”

Gambit blushed, but he kept going. “This really gives you all the protection you need?”

“Well, it’s not perfect. But it works, gives me a place to hide and rest during the day. It’s something, you know?” Spike could tell that Gambit _didn’t_ know, not really, but he nodded anyway. Spike sighed, adding, “But yes, I’ll burn to a crisp. Not a recommended experience.”

Gambit’s eyes trailed over Spike. “Explains the leather coat. Keeps the sun out?”

Spike shrugged. “Better than nothing.”

The sun had risen in the time between them stopping for gas and getting back out on the road, and the time was ticking close to eight in the morning. In a perfect world, they’d both be sleeping: Gambit would be sleeping in after a late night, while Spike would just be heading to bed, not coming out until the sun was setting. 

“I think I need a change of clothes,” Gambit said aloud, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt.

Spike chuckled. “You don’t smell _that_ bad.”

Gambit shot him a look. “No, not- I think we _both_ need a change of clothes, Spike. We need disguises.”

“Disguises?” Spike asked, unimpressed with the idea. Disguises couldn’t do that much, could they?

“We’re on the run. It’ll hopefully slow down our trail.” At Spike’s unchanging expression, Gambit added, “Come on, Spike- we’ll have to go inside buildings at some point, restaurants and hotels, and if we walk in wearing the same exact clothes as ‘those guys who killed a man,’” Gambit held up his fingers, making air quotes, “Then we’re fucked. They’ll have us before we even realize they’ve caught on.”

Spike sighed and begrudgingly, he nodded. “Yes, fine. If it’ll make you happy or make you feel safe, then sure, we’ll do it. But I’m not going in anywhere. You’ll have to pick out a disguise or whatever for me. Just, _please_ nothing ridiculous.”

Gambit held his hands to his chest in mock offense, gasping. “I would never! Please, I would never do you so badly as to make you look ridiculous.”

Spike narrowed his eyes, huffing. “Whatever you say. As long as it at least fits, alright? I’m doing this for you, might I remind you.”

“Aw, and I appreciate it, really I do,” Gambit replied, “But may I remind you that we’re _technically_ on this road trip because of you? I mean… you didn’t have to… eat that guy.”

At this, Spike laughed. “‘Eat that guy,’ I didn’t _eat_ anyone. You want to see someone get eaten, I have other demons to introduce you to, I promise.”

Gambit’s face twisted in disgust and maybe a bit of fear and he leaned back in his seat. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

They kept driving and it was only when Gambit spotted a sign for a thrift store that he made Spike slow down and pull over, asking for Spike’s size as Spike pulled into a parking spot behind the building in an attempt to hide it from the main road, hoping it wouldn’t be spotted by anyone searching for them. As Gambit jumped out of the car, Spike rolled down his window, careful to avoid the rays of sunshine as he called out to Gambit, “Remember what I said! Don’t make me look like an idiot.”

The look Gambit shot back wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Spike rolled his window back up and leaned back in his seat, resting his eyes for a moment. He considered turning on the radio, but with Gambit gone, he finally had a moment of silence. It was just a little exhausting being stuck in a vehicle with another man that, in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t know that well. 

Gambit seemed like a nice man, but he also seemed like a complete pain in the ass. Spike would need a vacation from this vacation once he dropped Gambit back off in New York. 

And then, of course, it would be time to chase after Dru. Convince her that he was the best thing she had ever had. Which he _was_ , but she seemed to have forgotten that. He was confident that he’d get her back soon, once he dropped Gambit off and got back on his way towards Drusilla.

Maybe he was procrastinating, putting it off. Despite reclaiming his confidence that he _could_ get her back, there was still this inkling of fear deep in his chest that, at the very least, she’d be difficult about the whole ordeal, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. 

Spike groaned, bending over and dropping his face in his hands, annoyed with himself. He was being ridiculous, of course, but he couldn’t drop it. He just wished he could get his old self back, because as he was currently standing, he was disappointing himself. 

And then with Gambit. Why had he been so keen to help him, going on the run? What did Spike owe him, if anything? Spike sighed, dropping his head against his chest. For some reason, he felt tied to Gambit, although it was entirely possible that that was solely due to the fact that he and Gambit had fucked around. Besides that, Spike had to admit that it did impress him that Gambit, despite somehow not knowing of vampires and their existence, was truly taking it in stride. Props to him for not running at the concept, although it certainly made Spike wonder what Gambit’s life experiences were that he had easily accepted the whole vampire thing.

Some rapped on the window and Spike jumped up, cracking down the window to find Gambit before him, already dressed in his new set of clothes. He was dressed in a pair of old blue jeans and dirty sneakers, paired with a button-down shirt that was a decade out of fashion, with bright colors paneling the front. 

Spike scoffed. “Oh good.”

Gambit rounded the car to his side and Spike rolled his window back up, turning to face Gambit as Gambit settled into his seat, shutting the car door firmly. Gambit smiled. “Do you like?”

“Please tell me my outfit doesn’t stand out nearly as much as yours does,” Spike replied, shaking his head. “You chose to dress like this?”

“Well, there weren’t loads of options. Here.”

Gambit thrust a plastic bag of clothes into Spike’s lap and tentatively, Spike opened it. And dramatically, he gagged. 

Waiting for him inside the bag were a pair of dark khakis and a white graphic tee with a beer brand’s logo streamed across the front, and resting on top of the items was the ugliest, more colorful ball cap Spike had ever seen. 

“No. No way.”

“Oh, my bad- do you want to go back inside yourself and find something more suitable to your liking? I just _figured_ since we’re trying to make quick time and all, that grabbing the first things that seemed like they could fit was the best option.”

Glaring, Spike replied, “You didn’t have to choose something so ugly, though!”

“Look, the ball cap will hide your face, and I’m pretty sure they won’t suspect the weird goth man with the bleached-blond hair to wear khakis pants.”

Spike looked down at his own outfit, mouthing “Goth?” to himself before trailing his eyes back to the plastic bag. He sighed. “Whatever. Fine.”

He pulled his shirt off quickly and pulled on the white tee, trying not to retch at the smell of clothes that had been sitting in a store for too long. He maneuvered his hips up so that he could kick off his pants, aware that Gambit was eyeing him, and if he was in a better mood, he might have made use of this moment, but currently he was too angry with the situation and how ridiculous he looked.

He threw his old clothes into the back seat and, shooting Gambit a pointed look, he pulled the cap on over his hair. Gambit held his gaze for a moment, face straight, but he soon broke, doubling over as he cackled, ignoring the fact that Spike was shooting daggers in his direction. 

“Alright, alright,” Gambit finally said, breathing in deeply, “How ‘bout I give you a rest from driving and take over? Take it as an apology for me grabbing you such a god-awful outfit.”

Reluctantly and sure that Gambit would regret that decision, Spike nodded, and they made to slide across the front seat and trade spots, but they struggled and for an awkward moment found themselves dangerously close to one another, hips brushing up against each other. They locked eyes, and Spike’s mouth dried up. 

Gambit broke the moment quickly, pushing himself out of the way into the driver’s seat. Feeling the hair on his neck standing up, Spike settled into his own seat. 

There was a moment of terse silence before Gambit chuckled, saying, “This reminds me of a scene from that one film- _Say Anything_ , that’s it, _non_?”

Spike furrowed his brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gambit waved him off. “Ah, forget it.” He reached over to turn the keys in the ignition, and for the first time he seemed to register the state of the dashboard directly in front of his line of vision. Again, he cackled. “Christ, this car is terrible! I can’t believe this was your fix for staying out of the sun!”

“It’s vampire-friendly!”

“It’s hideous! I don’t care if it’s the safest car in the world, that doesn’t hide the fact that it’s a wreck,” Gambit replied. “And may I remind you that it sticks out like a sore thumb?”

“Oh, just drive. You _can_ drive, right?”

“Sure, I can drive, though normally I’m not usually given a slit to look through,” Gambit grumbled, checking the rear-view mirror and straightening in his seat as he made sure that he could in fact see out the window.

After a few messy turns and a near shitshow when Gambit made to merge onto the highway, they were on their way once more. Once comfortable that he could probably drive the car, Gambit said to Spike, “I’m going to drive fast. Make it harder for us to be followed, you know?”

Spike snorted. “I have no problems with you speeding.”

Gambit smiled. “Then you’ve never seen me speed.”

Without further warning, Gambit stamped his foot down on the acceleration and, knocking Spike forward, he sped off eastbound. 

“How is _this_ any better than us being followed because of the way my car looks?” Spike shouted in response over the roar of the engine.

“I know what I’m doing!” Gambit replied with a laugh. 

Gambit seemed convinced, but Spike wasn’t completely sold. Still, Gambit’s laugh made Spike want to trust him, and if Gambit thought that everything would work out fine, then Spike would be damned to think otherwise. Even if he thought that Gambit was just going to end up crashing his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @remylebub!


	3. You Got a 9 to 5, So I'll Take the Night Shift

It was around five PM when they crossed the border into Kansas, and Gambit was getting hungry. Spike assumed that Gambit had, out of decency and civility, had driven without comment to his own hunger, but he knew that Gambit must be hungry, at a suggestion of Gambit pulling over to get them coffee, Gambit happily obliged, turning into the first gas station that he could find. 

Spike stepped out to fill the tank again as Gambit rushed in. The sun was starting to disappear behind the gas station, blocking his skin from the diminishing sunlight. Spike allowed himself to properly look down at his clothes, sticking out his legs and twisting them around to get a full image of how the material looked on his body. 

It was as terrible as he had suspected, and he groaned. _Dammit, why the khakis_?

Tank full and with nothing left to do but wait, Spike leaned against the side of the car with his arms crossed in front of him, watching people pass by. If he had more time, he’d probably chase someone down, but Gambit would certainly notice his disappearance. 

Spike scowled. He didn’t _need_ to feed right now, but it angered him that he couldn’t do it whenever he liked, as was usual. He felt like Gambit had wrapped his hands around his mouth and muzzled him.

The gas station doors opened once more and Gambit was back outside with two coffees in hand and a plastic bag with what Spike guessed to be Gambit’s dinner inside. Spike took a coffee from Gambit, thanking him. “Did you get yourself some dinner there?”

Gambit laughed. “Well, nothing fancy- or healthy. Fried peanuts and a honeybun, for now.”

Spike clucked his tongue. “Not even a hotdog?”

“Well, I wasn’t in the _mood_ for a hotdog.”

They climbed back into the car, this time with Spike settling back into his spot behind the wheel. Gambit immediately dug into his bag, and Spike gave him a moment to eat some food before driving away. Once Gambit had eaten his full, he leaned back into his seat, yawning.

“Do you need much rest? Whatever your kind is- do you need to sleep much?” Spike asked, notting how Gambit had slunk back in his seat, eyelids heavy.

Gambit said nothing in response, simply nodding.

Spike smiled. “I’ll take the night shift, then. You rest, if you’d like. I know you’ve been up for far too long.”

Gambit said nothing to retort this, instead picking his tan jacket up from the backseat of Spike’s car, draping it over himself as he settled back in his seat. Once comfortable, he glanced back at Spike. “Wake me if anything happens, alright?”

Spike nodded and soon Gambit was fast asleep, his breathing even as he rested curled up with his face pressed firmly against his seat. 

Spike himself was tired, although his exhaustion came from being cooped up in his car all day, his legs sore. Maybe it would have been better from them to pullover somewhere and both rest, or at least for him to pull off at a rest stop and walk around a bit, but with Gambit already resting, it seemed wrong to wake him up already.

It was around one AM when Gambit finally stirred, sitting up in his seat lethargically. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking, and he quickly looked around, as if needing a moment to remember where he was. He looked at Spike, nodded, then began to tilt his head from side-to-side, stretching.

“Sleep well?” Spike asked.

“Pretty well. Neck’s sore.”

Gambit stared straight ahead of them at the covered dashboard, and Spike was sure that Gambit was wondering just how far they had traveled in that time.

“We just passed by Lawrence.” 

“We’re still in Kansas?” Gambit asked, voice ascending in tone, highlighting his confusion. Kansas must have been a larger state than he realized.

Spike chuckled. “It doesn’t help that at one point we got stuck in some traffic. There must have been an accident. But yeah, it’s a wide state. Takes a while to pass through.”

Gambit sighed, suddenly bending forward to open up the glovebox. He started to route around, only halting when Spike spoke in alarm.

“Hey! You can’t just go through my car, what are you looking for?”

Gambit looked back at him, annoyed. “A map?”

“Oh.” Spike relaxed back in his seat, glancing back over to the glovebox in question. “I don’t know if I have one of those.”

Gambit blanched. “You mean to tell me you’ve been driving this whole time without a map? What if we get _lost_?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Spike said, shrugging. “I’m going east; we’ll get to New York eventually.”

Gambit gaped at him, then dropped his face into his hands with a groan. “We’re going to die.”

“We’re _not_ going to die.”

“Yes we are! We’re going to get lost in the woods somewhere and I’m going to starve to death and you’ll resort to eating me-”

“-I don’t eat people!”

“-And no one’s ever going to remember me or know that I’m gone because no one knows that I’m on this ‘vacation,’” Gambit finished, air quotes added for emphasis.

Annoyed, Spike looked at Gambit pointedly. “No one’s going to remember you? We’re literally on the run right now.”

“Yeah, but that’s no fun,” Gambit grumbled. “I’d rather be remembered for being a skillful lover ‘nd thief than a murderer.”

“Aw,” Spike replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You want to be Bonnie and Clyde without actually hurting anyone! That’s cute.”

Scowling, Gambit crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No, I just- there’s no way my family and friends’ll remember the good in me if I go out with my whole name tarnished.”

“...Mate, they don’t yet know your name. The news, I mean. All they’ve got is your physical description. You’re good.”

A heavy sigh escaped Gambit’s lips at the thought of not being remembered either. Spike shook his head, continuing before Gambit could get another word in, “I get it, you know- you want to be remembered, and you want to be remembered in a way that you see fit. You want to be known as this charming guy who did some bad things but ultimately was pretty good, but that’s not how life works. You don’t get to decide how you’re remembered, and you don’t get to fix your own fate. If you’re lucky, you’ll be remembered at all, but if you keep trying to control how people remember you, you’ll only fuck yourself over in the end. You can’t control how people think of you, and you can’t control how people will remember you, if you’re even given the honor of being remembered in the first place.”

After a stretch of silence, Gambit softly replied, “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

Spike glanced over from the road, meeting Gambit’s gaze. Gambit’s eyes glowed against the dark of the car, and he held Spike’s stare steadily despite the shakiness of his tone seconds before. Spike forced his eyes away. 

“You won’t be forgotten, Gambit. You’ve got too much family for that to happen. Your relationship with them right now may not be _good_ , but I bet they haven’t forgotten you, and I bet even if you died right here and now, they’d remember you, even if it’s a lackluster death, not the Hollywood ending you seem to be hoping for.”

“Like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Or Thelma and Louise,” Spike answered. “Seems more fitting, considering we’re the same gender and all.”

“But don’t they die at the end?”

Spike chose not to remind Gambit that practically all of those tales of outlaws on the run ended in their untimely demises. Instead, Spike chuckled. “I was thinking more of how it ended with a hell of a kiss.”

He looked back over at Gambit and saw Gambit’s gaze soften in the dark. A silence fell once more, this time gentler and more contemplative as Gambit seemed to think on the points Spike had made. Finally, after minutes had passed, Gambit spoke.

“I still think we need to pick up a fucking map.”

Spike laughed and, while sure that they would never use it, promised to pull over at the next gas station they came across so that Gambit could ease some of his anxieties, however stupid Spike thought them to be.

\-----

“So this family of yours,” Spike prompted, another two hours having passed by. “The one you’re worried about forgetting you. It’s the New York family you want to remember you, right? Not the New Orleans?”

Tentatively, Gambit nodded. “Already screwed things up too much with the people who raised me. At least there’s a chance of fixing things with the ones in New York. I hope.”

He laughed, a short, huff of a noise that dispersed in the air humorously. Spike asked, “You don’t care what they think of you?”

“The New Orleans family already made it damn well known what they t’ink of me, and I got over that years ago. It’s easier, anyway, knowing I’ll never get ‘em back on my side. At least I know how they feel.”

He had been tapping his fingers incessantly against the thigh of his jeans, and suddenly impatient, Gambit growled. “Dammit, I need a smoke. All this talk about family has got me feeling antsy.”

“I’ll pull into the next rest stop,” Spike replied, having spent the better part of the evening fighting his own need for a cigarette.

“You got family, Spike?”

It was a simple question, but it made Spike frown. He had Dru- or would have her back soon, at the very least. And he supposed he had friends. Definitely acquaintances. But family…?

“Family died over a hundred years ago, love,” Spike replied, skirting around the question. He knew this wasn’t the answer Gambit was looking for. “But, you know, I’ve got people. That’s what it’s like being a demon, isn’t it? You have your blood family and your family that you’ve made along the way. Sounds like you’ve got something similar, with your New York people.”

Gambit seemed to contemplate this. “I suppose.”

“Are they demons?”

“Guess I haven’t really asked,” Gambit replied slowly. “I- I-”

He halted suddenly, closing his mouth shut as he chewed over his answer. Spike waited; Gambit was mouthy, which made it odd that he didn’t ask his friends and family personal questions.

Finally, Gambit slowly said, “I haven’t asked, but they must be. Some of ‘em, they have powers. Strength, immortality. I don’t know the details but- yes, they must be.”

Spike wondered if Gambit had, unknowingly, surrounded himself with a cluster of vampires this whole time. For a man who seemed to deeply enjoy his nightlife, he didn’t seem to be incredibly receptive to things happening around him. It was incredible that he had made it this far in life without being aware that vampires existed.

Up ahead was a turn off not for a rest stop but an exit that marked a diner two miles to the left. Spike nodded at the sign despite Gambit’s inability to see it, suggesting, “Diner is coming up. We could stop outside for a smoke, then go in and get some food in us. Real food this time- food that constitutes a filling meal.”

Gambit blinked, unconvinced. “Are you sure we can take a break for that long?”

“Relax. It’s still the middle of the night, it’s probably nearly empty in there besides a trucker or two. And I need a break- my legs are killing me.”

Still hesitant, Gambit nodded. Spike took the exit, humming to himself as he followed the signs for the diner. As he turned in, he made sure to park in the back lot to hide the car a little from the view of the road, and Gambit’s worries seemed eased by the fact that the car was at least partially hidden. 

“I still hate how much your car stands out,” Gambit muttered, digging around in his pocket for his cigarettes. 

They lit their cigarettes and smoked in silence, meandering around the sidewalk next to the building, stretching their legs and arms while they were still outside.

Spike had been right; there was practically no one inside the diner besides two people at the bar and a rather bedraggled-looking couple at a booth in the back. Spike wondered, fleetingly, as he came to the end of his cigarette, what kind of evening they were having to put them in such a state before wondering if he gave off a similar impression.

They moved inside, done with their cigarettes, and requested a booth from the cute waitress who had greeted them at the door expectantly. Gambit ordered a glass of water while Spike ordered himself another coffee, not exactly in the mood for any other drink the menu offered. Once the waitress had left to get their drinks, Gambit leaned in across the table.

“What state are we in?”

“Nearly out of Missouri. Then we’ll be in Illinois.”

“Illinois,” Gambit repeated, settling back against the booth. “Interesting. I guess that means we’re headed north.”

Spike frowned. “Of course we’re heading north. I know how to follow road signs.”

“I’m just grateful you let us stop to get a map. That way if…,” Gambit trailed off as the waitress returned, setting their drinks down. Gambit thanked her, sending her a wink that made her blush, and he waited for her to step away before turning back to Spike. “Well, whatever. You know what I was going to say.”

He reached over and opened up his menu, flipping through the pages inattentively. He looked outside, brow furrowing. “What do you t’ink, Spike- should I get breakfast or just get a burger?”

“Whatever sparks your fancy. Just don’t pick something that’s going to make you sick- we don’t exactly have time to pull over so you can be sick on the side of the road.”

Gambit rolled his eyes, draping an arm over the back of his booth. “Oh come on, diner food doesn’t necessarily mean food that’ll make me sick.”

“See, you say that,” Spike replied, unable to hold back a smile. “But I’m fairly certain that the meatloaf surprise isn’t going to go down well.”

“Might I remind you that your friend Gambit here,” Gambit replied, sticking his thumb out at his chest, “Likes taking risks.”

Spike clucked his tongue with, “Everyone’s a risk taker until they’re sick; then you’re all toddlers again.”

Ultimately, Gambit decided on ordering what was labeled as the “gourmet cheeseburger,” which Spike pointed out as false advertising. 

A different waitress, an older woman whose face was set in a grim line, came by to take their meal order. Rather than prompting Gambit, she waited, pen and notepad in hand, for him to start, tilting her head in his direction when he didn’t immediately pick up her queue. 

He ordered his burger as it came on the menu with no changes, asking for a plate of fries on the side, and once done writing it out on her pad, she looked over at Spike. “And what’s your friend having?”

“Oh, he doesn’t eat food,” Gambit answered quickly, earning a sharp look from Spike.

The waitress raised an eyebrow and Gambit, realizing his mistake, sputtered out quickly, “At night. He doesn’t eat food at night.”

He looked back over at Spike, smiling just a little in a look that Spike took to mean, _See how well I saved that?_ , which only made Spike roll his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Right. So just the burger, then?”

They nodded and, picking up the menus, she left them alone once more. Glaring at Gambit, Spike leaned forward so his voice would be a hush. “I’ll have you know that I _do_ eat food occasionally, but besides that, that was just about the dumbest thing someone could have said!”

“Hey, I covered quickly, though! It’s all fine!”

Spike groaned, choosing instead to turn his focus to his coffee. He didn’t want coffee, he wanted to feed, and while he was holding off from it while Gambit was around, it was growing harder and harder to fight the urge, especially considering the fact that Gambit was getting on his nerve. Who cared if he fed? Hell, he could probably feed on someone from this diner- not like any of _them_ would be remembered if they went missing. His eyes trailed over to their waitress, considering her for a moment; she’d likely been working here for decades, and it was still dark out. She didn’t seem like such a bad option, not at the moment.

He felt Gambit’s eyes on him, and out of the corner of his own eye, saw Gambit follow Spike’s gaze, looking from Spike to the waitress. After a moment, Gambit cried out, “Hey! No! Not our waitress, no way!”

“I didn’t say I was going to do anything.”

“You were thinking about it! I saw it clearly on your face. You want to-”

“-Not eat.”

“ _Feed_ on her, or whatever. You can’t. I won’t allow it,” Gambit finished, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Spike huffed, exasperated. “Well, I’m going to have to at some point!”

“Do it when I’m not looking! I don’t want to know before it happens, alright? At least then I don't have to harbor any guilt for it. Just keep it from me.” 

Gambit leaned down in his seat, allowing for himself to slide down some ways, and Spike held back a snort. Gambit looked like a kid having a meltdown, his bottom lip out in a pout. Spike let the conversation stop there, aware that there was nothing he could say to convince Gambit otherwise, in the same way that nothing Gambit said would stop Spike from sneaking off at some point to feed. 

Aware that they were at a stalemate, Gambit sat up once more in his seat, trailing his eyes out towards the parking lot. His uneasiness, that antsy behavior from the car, had returned. “I really don’t think we should be here for long.”

“Do you want to get your meal to go?” Spike asked, and Gambit only sighed, dropping his head against his chest before looking back up at Spike. 

“I- no, it’s fine. Just… your car, Spike-”

“I am _not_ ditching my car,” Spike snapped back, nostrils flaring. “And I highly doubt that they paid that much attention to what I was driving, anyway.”

Gambit looked away, eyes averted and lingering on something across the restaurant, a glaze to his eyes that told Spike that this conversation annoyed him, which only pissed Spike off more. “Oh, don’t give me that look! You’re the one who keeps bringing this up! The car is fine! It drives well and fast and I’ll have you dropped off in New York before anyone even catches on that we’re there!” 

He paused, waiting for Gambit to reply, but Gambit was still looking away. Aggravated, Spike leaned back in his seat, throwing his arms out as he gestured between the two of them. “We’re fine, and more importantly, you’ll be fine. Just stop freaking out about something so bloody stupid.”

He stopped- he _still_ didn’t have Gambit’s attention. “For fuck’s sake, why are you-”

Finally, Gambit’s eyes snapped back to Spike, his expression oddly stoic. “Spike. Look at the television screen, will you?”

Still fuming, Spike followed Gambit’s gaze, and as his eyes fell on the screen, he froze in his seat. On screen was black-and-white grainy footage of his car speeding out of the Las Vegas bar’s parking lot. How had they gotten footage of that? Must have been a security camera from a parking lot or a nearby business, as the footage wasn’t clear enough to show any details of their stature, even as the news reel played a clip of them jumping into the car. Spike breathed a sigh of relief, aware that they had gotten off easy.

Gambit didn’t seem to think of it this way. “I _told_ you!” he hissed. “Look at that, look at it! I was right, and here we are, watching footage of ourselves on a screen in a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere!” 

“It could be worse!” Spike hissed back. “You can’t see our faces, and the film, it’s all grainy! We’re fine!”

“The fact that there’s footage of it at all says that we’re definitely not fine, Spike!”

They would have continued on in this way if it wasn’t for the waitress’s return with Gambit’s burger in hand. She placed it down in front of them but before she could slink away, Gambit held up his hand, stopping her. “Here, let me pay now- will twenty cover it?” 

At her nod, he informed her that she could keep the change. He waited for her to leave them again before beginning to eat his burger, practically scarfing it down. “We’re getting out of here as fast as possible, alright. We’ve just gotta keep driving, ‘cause currently I t’ink that they don’t know where we are, but that could change fast.”

Spike sighed, reaching forward to finish off his coffee. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest in a motel somewhere? Get some sleep?”

Gambit swallowed down the bite that was in his mouth, scowling. “I can sleep in the car. I’ll rest when I don’t have to worry about people tracking us, Spike. I want us to get to safety with as little damage to ourselves as physically possible.”

“Glad to know you care,” Spike muttered, dead-pan.

At this, Gambit placed his burger back down on his plate, locking eyes with Spike and holding his gaze. “I _do_ care,” he said. “And if shit wasn’t as it is, I’d be _showing_ you how much I care, but obviously now isn’t the time to pull you off into a dodgy motel and show you a good time.”

“Well,” Spike smiled, wetting his lips. “I did suggest us staying in a motel just a second ago.”

“And I’m still shooting it down. _Trust_ me,” Gambit said, tone desperate. “If we weren’t states away from the end goal, I’d take you up on that offer. Hell, we get through this, I’ll keep in touch in case you ever do want to meet up again, but now ain’t the time.”

Spike chose not to mention the fact that, after this, he’d be off with Drusilla again. Instead, he sat up in his seat, sighing. “Whatever makes you happy. God, you’re one anxious bloody demon. Been caught before? What- someone try and fuck you up because of your eyes?”

Gambit said nothing, and Spike let it go. The less they spoke, the faster Gambit ate anyway. Once his plate was finished and he had emptied his glass of water, he split for a moment to use the bathroom, leaving Spike alone at the booth with his thoughts. Again. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to consider what Gambit had been saying about the car. Maybe if they had been on a bike, Gambit’s bike perhaps, before it had gotten blown to pieces, they would have been better off. But then again, wasn’t it better to be traveling in a suspicious car than out in the open where people could physically see them, possibly leading to their recognition?

Spike glanced down once more at his clothes, those hideous khakis and the white shirt. He hated wearing white; it blended in too well with his skin, and it made him look like a bloody Mormon, _especially_ with the khakis pants. The urge to abandon Gambit intensified as he stared at the clothes Gambit had picked up for him, but he closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself down. Soon Gambit would be off with his weird demon-family in New York and Spike would be back doing whatever the hell he pleased, likely fighting off the damn search hounds or whatever they were sending out until he found Dru again. He could handle a bunch of assholes biting at his heels, but what he couldn’t handle was listening to someone complain about it, even if he did understand why said person was worried about the situation.

Gambit was back at the table before Spike could fall deeper into thought and he stood from the booth, following after Gambit. They reached the car and Spike slid into the driver’s seat before Gambit could argue against it, informing him that there were still a good few hours left of dark and Gambit could rest some more if he’d like. At least it would mean some silence for a while. He hoped.

“I’ll shut up for now about the footage,” he began as Spike pulled out of the parking lot. “But could we just talk for a little while? Maybe to distract me from all this?”

Spike glanced at him curiously. “Uh, alright. What exactly were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’d like to know about the past.”

Spike snorted. “You can read about all that in a book. You’d get more accurate facts than anything you learn from me.”

“I don’t want accurate,” Gambit replied. He ran his fingers through his hair, swiping his hair off to the side. It was a little greasy, and Spike was sure that Gambit was likely longing for a shower. Gambit continued, “I want your opinions. What you saw personally, since you’re a century older than me. I’m sure not everything is remembered as it actually happened.”

“Prepare for disappointment, then. I didn’t exactly pay any attention to shit that didn’t involve me. But I was there for some pretty iconic performances,” Spike added, smiling to himself as a memory came to him of attending jazz clubs in the 1920s in New York City. For a little while, there had even been a demon-run club, although it had gone under the next decade. He had visited it some years later in the 50s but it had become a comedy club with a completely different atmosphere. He wasn’t even sure if it was run by demons anymore.

“Iconic performances?” Gambit asked, straightening in his seat, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Well, obviously I was at Woodstock. Lots of vamps were there. I was pretty much out of commission early on after I fed on the wrong person. Felt like I was floating for hours.”

Gambit’s eyes brightened, clearly entertained by the story. “How was the music? It’s incredible that you got to be there.”

Spike laughed. “You really think I have any memory of the music? Like I said, I was tripping, mate. Absolutely out of it.”

“Oh,” Gambit replied, deflating. He leaned back in his seat. “Favorite time period, then?”

Spike mulled over this for a moment. They had just reached the highway, and Spike took a moment to merge before answering Gambit’s question. “I’m always a fan of the present. New foods, new technology; it’s amazing to see how things have changed. Television is an absolutely wonderful development, in my opinion. Most important advancement since electricity.”

“Hmm.”

Spike glanced back over at Gambit. “What, not happy with that answer?”

“Well, it’s just- you ask people who are a generation older about their past, and they always seem to reminisce on when they were younger. It’s just… interesting that you prefer present time over the past. Do you miss it, at all? Feel any nostalgia for the time period you were raised in?”

“Hell no,” Spike said quickly. “Besides, I was- you know- human then.” He paused, face twisting in disgust. “Ugh. Gross. I’m loads happier now than I ever was before. The old me was a weak pansy. Now look at me.”

He flashed Gambit a smile. Gambit remained unaffected. “Alright then,” Gambit continued, “Anything else you enjoyed living through?”

That was a fair question. Spike was, arguably, fine with time passing over him, especially considering the fact that he had enough of it to spare. Immortality had made him comfortable to do his own thing, and it was only when he was truly intrigued by something that he went out of his way to involve himself in something new. 

“The punk movement,” he answered honestly. “Though I’m sure that’s pretty obvious. Clothing… fashion has changed a lot over the years, but there’s much more freedom to wear whatever. And lord knows everything these days is much more comfortable. And thank god for advancements in washing laundry and laundry soap. That’s something you lot take for granted.”

They drove on for a few more hours, only stopping around seven AM when Gambit offered to get behind the wheel. 

“We’re heading east,” he had argued. “And the sun’s gonna be directly in your face. Might as well let me drive for a while.”

“Fine,” Spike had replied. “But you’re not allowed to bitch about the dashboard anymore.”

They stopped at a rest stop and while Gambit was off in the bathroom, Spike had finally snapped, pulling some trucker off to the side behind the information building where Gambit wouldn’t possibly see him. Once he was done, his pockets twenty bucks richer and his hand now sporting an impressive ring, he headed back towards the car, finding Gambit already waiting for him behind the wheel. 

Spike ignored the burn of Gambit’s eyes on him as Spike slid into the passenger seat, shutting the car door. Unable to avoid it anymore, he met Gambit’s gaze; Gambit narrowed his eyes. “Where were you?”

“Are you _sure_ you want me to answer that?”

Gambit’s nostrils flared. He moved the shift into reverse. “Forget I asked.”

Spike watched Gambit as he pulled out of the parking lot. Spike had met thousands of people during his time on Earth, and Gambit was, in his opinion, incomparable. There were very few people that Spike found himself drawn to, or at the very least, that Spike didn’t want to kill. Well, he supposed Gambit wasn’t exactly exempt from that. Spike smirked, eyes still on Gambit. “You’re an odd man.”

Surprised, Gambit’s head snapped to look at Spike. “ _I’m_ weird?” he sputtered. “You- excuse me?”

“You’re odd. You- Oh, I don’t know,” Spike replied, chuckling to himself. “It’s weird that you continue to put up with me, even though you’re adamantly against my actions. Although- sorry- you’re not going to be able to stop me from what I do. I’ve been sticking to this for centuries.”

“You think I’m weird just being I’m sticking with you,” Gambit stated flatly, glancing over at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “See, I’d argue that that’s weird, not me sticking around.”

“You know, you could always leave. I’m not forcing you to stick around,” Spike said teasingly, but at the look Gambit sent him Spike added, “I mean it. If you wanted to just leave, I wouldn’t- oh, I don’t know- kill you for doing so. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Yes, you’ve said that,” Gambit replied. “Something about me being a demon and not enticing you.”

“Exactly,” Spike smiled. 

Gambit said nothing in response, his lips pressed in a thin, tight frown. He began to ask a question but he halted mid-word, clamping his mouth shut.

“What is it?” Spike asked.

Gambit glanced over at him nervously. “With humans. I guess I just wanted to know- do you ever keep anyone alive? Play favorites, have ones you consider friends?” Spike stared at him, finding the question odd, and Gambit quickly added, “I just want to know about vampire culture, or whatever you want to call it. Do you have anyone that you’d never kill, no matter what?”

Spike sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose there’s people who I keep around because there’s fun in messing with them over months of time. Kill them too soon and you don’t get that anxiety, those rising tensions.” 

Spike's thoughts meandered to Buffy and her squad of friends and he smiled to himself, adding, “Sometimes humans can be useful. That’ll give them a reason to be kept around for a little longer.”

Spike looked back over at Gambit, a pang of annoyance striking him as Gambit appeared unamused. Spike scoffed. “Oh, stop with the guilt trips, you pacifist. See, _this_ is why I don’t get you sticking around! If you hate it so much, why not leave?”

At first, Spike was met with silence, and he figured that Gambit was choosing to ignore him. With nothing better to do, Spike dropped his gaze to his boots, beginning to retie the laces when he sensed Gambit fidgeting in his seat, seeming to have something on his mind.

“I stick around,” Gambit finally said, swallowing hard. “Because even with our… differing viewpoints, we’ve tied ourselves together with what happened in Las Vegas. And, by the way, I can just about guess that the moment we part ways you’re going to do something reckless. And I know you’ll end up fine, but despite myself, I have taken a liking to you. As a friend. As, _merde_ , a lover even. But I think the moment I leave, you’re gonna turn your ass around and fight every single thing coming your way just because you can. And that…,” Gambit sighed. “That leaves me with a lot of conflicting feelings.”

“Conflicting feelings,” Spike repeated.

Gambit sighed, his eyes flicking over to Spike before settling back on the road. “I like you, Spike- I mean, you scare the hell outta me, but I like you. You’re the only- the only vampire I’ve met, at least that I know of, which makes you something special. I guess the smart response _would_ be to run away from you, but I find myself sticking around. Guess maybe it’s ‘cause you intrigue me and I want to learn more. I don’t know. Like I said. Conflicting feelings. I don’t really have the words for ‘em.”

He freed a hand from the steering wheel and ran it through his hair. Spike said nothing, wondering if Gambit wanted to continue, and finally Gambit added, “After this we’ll probably never see each other again. Maybe I’m sticking around to experience new t’ings while I can, learn new stuff about people I didn’t even know existed.”

Spike settled back in his seat, planting his feet firmly down on the floor at his feet. “You knew going into this that we weren’t going to become besties, though. I mean… one-night-stands don’t usually turn out that way, at least not for me.”

Gambit chuckled, and some of the tension in the air faded. “Me neither. It’s been fun, Spike. Well- no, it hasn’t, it’s been absolutely terrible- but I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d have rather been stuck with. Best person to run from the cops with is someone just as unhinged as yourself.”

Spike smiled then turned back away from Gambit, wanting to think for a while. Conflicting feelings. Sure, Gambit was already closer to being a friend than anyone else Spike had met in the past decade, but Spike didn’t exactly tie himself to people besides Dru. Still, Spike felt an inkling of sadness at the prospect of not seeing Gambit again, despite how weird the man was and despite the fact that he seemed adamantly against killing people unless it was “necessary”. But being around Gambit was entertaining, despite these things, and Spike enjoyed his company. And while he apparently had conflicting feelings about the whole thing, it was nice to hear that Gambit felt a similar way. 

“You should nap,” Gambit said suddenly.

Spike shrugged. “I don’t need to.”

“Well, you can if you’d like. I don’t want you to think that you have to stay awake to keep me entertained. I can do just fine on my own.”

Spike chuckled, turning back once more, but as he sat in his seat with nothing to do, he grew more and more tempted to take Gambit up on his offer, and soon his eyes were growing heavy. He’d rest for now, give Gambit a break from his incessant teasing. Consider it a gift.

\-----

Spike woke with a start as the car hit what must have been an uneven patch in the road. Startled, he collected himself before shooting Gambit a look. “Watch it!”

“Sorry,” Gambit replied. “Had to swerve and hit a pothole. Someone was trying to merge and nearly hit us, and I figured it was better to hit the pothole than have us crash. Imagine trying to talk our way out of that to whatever cops showed up. ‘No, officer, this is a _different_ car with a blocked off dashboard.’ Shit, Spike, is this car even street legal?”

Spike said nothing in response, and Gambit laughed. “Wait- do you even have a license?”

“Why would I be able to get a license? Who on Earth would give me a real- no, of course this isn’t technically legal. So… be a more careful driver, I guess.”

Gambit shook his head to himself. “Explains why you were so worried about my speeding earlier.”

“You would’ve been the one to get in trouble, ultimately.”

Gambit frowned. “Maybe you should stop letting me drive this thing, then, if it’s just gonna get me arrested.”

Spike rubbed his eyes, still heavy with sleep. According to the car’s clock, it was in the early hours of afternoon, and Spike stretched. “Does the tank need refilling?”

“Not quite yet,” Gambit replied. “I think we have another few hours before it’s empty, and then I’ll go off and find a gas station. I’ll need food around then, anyway.”

“How far are we from your people?” Spike asked. 

“Well, I haven’t checked the map,” Gambit replied. “But I’m still heading northeast, so that’s a good sign. We’re in Ohio still, then I guess we’ll drive through Pennsylvania?”

“You think?”

“I was never fantastic at my geography,” Gambit chuckled.

They talked music for the next hour, although it was mostly Gambit begging Spike to give him more details about the people he had met and acts he had seen live. That had always been an odd thing to Spike: there were shows he had seen that seemed normal in the moment that, decades later, people latched onto, wishing that they had been there too, to experience whatever band or show it was in person. But when he had actually been in attendance, most of these moments weren’t celebrated until after the fact, when the nostalgia hit and analyses and recordings spread around. Maybe it was envy or just a complete yearning for the past, but it was a feeling that Spike no longer felt himself. He had lost that when he’d been turned, he supposed, but he couldn’t remember people discussing this sort of thing when he had been human. This obsession with the past, with people never seen or met seemed to be a more recent development, this obsession with the celebrity and the clout of seeing something live. When had this shift occurred?

Spike stuck to his own thing. He had more fun that way. Although he had to admit, he missed some of the fashion from twenty years ago, not that he stuck to fashion trends, but at least compared to Dru, he seemed up with the times. 

Spike frowned to himself, no longer listening to what Gambit was saying- something about small bands in the south that he’d seen perform at sleazy bars. Spike missed Drusilla, if anything because he missed her company. At least he’d be off searching for her soon. 

When they finally stopped, the sun had just set, the sky still speckled with shades of orange and pink lighting up the clouds. They pulled into one of those truck stops that had a set of showers in the back. Spike had a feeling though that as tempted as Gambit would be, he wouldn’t be showering here. It was an older gas station, and it wasn’t that clean, but the gas pumps were mostly empty and they figured that a near-empty gas station was the place to rest for a while. 

They filled up the tank before heading inside; the light had faded enough that Spike could safely follow Gambit in, finding that he himself was craving something salty. Maybe Gambit would be open to splitting a tray of mediocre nachos. 

While Spike got his nachos, Gambit lingered by the hotdog rollers, eyeing them suspiciously. “Think these are fresh?”

Spike snorted. “Are you serious? No way. Look at how badly they’re sweating.”

Gambit’s face twisted in disgust, backing away. “Right. I’ll just get a donut, then.”

They paid for their food, eating it on one of the benches that made up a small eating area. Spike eyed the people inside, the young man behind the cash register who seemed bored out of his mind and an older woman who was dawdling by the small collection of canned goods. He grew bored with this quickly.

Spike finished a chip then nodded towards the exit. “I’m gonna have a smoke. I’ll be back in a few. Feel free to finish these off,” he added, passing Gambit the nachos.

It had grown colder outside, a breeze passing through the air, and Spike wondered if a storm was coming. He didn’t like driving in the rain, not with his car as it was. Spike groaned; Gambit was right, of course; his car was an absolute nuisance to drive, but there was no way around it, unless Spike wanted to burn up like a crisp. 

Spike lit up his cigarette, his eyes trailing across the parking lot and over the pumps as he inhaled deeply. The air felt thick, a heaviness to it that he could feel every time he moved his hand. He experimented with this for a minute but eventually he grew bored with this too, dropping his hand down by his side. He quickly finished his cigarette, stubbing it out on the wall behind him before dropping it on the concrete, stepping it out for good measure. Gambit was probably done eating, and they needed to head out soon. 

Spike sighed. He hated driving in the rain, but Gambit deserved a chance to sleep, too. Not like Gambit would be much of a better driver in this weather than him. At least Spike knew the car well and was well-versed in its faults.

The kid behind the counter didn’t look up when he entered, and Gambit only nodded his way as Spike crossed past a stand of candy bars. Gambit stood from the bench, stretching. “Weather’s looking bad.”

“Yeah, and I’m not sure it will get much better. We should head out soon, unless you need anything else.”

Gambit shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, looking at his own pack of cigarettes. He frowned, looking up at Spike apologetically. “I’m sorry- I’m running low ‘nd I need more. You mind?”

Spike shook his head, and Gambit headed back over to the counter. A small TV was on, tacked to a wall behind the register, blaring some commercial for toothpaste before shifting onto a news story. Gambit finished up getting his cigarettes and Spike thought, what the hell, might as well stock up himself. His ears had, thank god, grown used to the sound of the TV and it became a low hum in the background as he passed over a few bills.

In fact, he didn’t think anything was off until he felt Gambit frantically place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm shake. Spike shot him back a sharp look, but something about Gambit’s expression made him pause and swallow back the biting remark he had forming on his lips, and Spike realized that Gambit’s gaze was glued to the TV screen. Spike turned quickly, looking up.

It was an understatement to say he was surprised when he saw a mediocre sketch of himself. 

Well, he assumed mediocre; Spike himself wasn’t too sure how he was looking these days.

Beside the sketch of himself was one of Gambit. That sketch, too, didn’t capture Gambit’s appearance, not really, but the eyes were spot on, red and glowing. According to the news anchor doing the voice over on-screen, their appearances were based off of descriptions taken from eye witnesses. 

This certainly put a strain on things.

Spike turned to face Gambit, trying to soothe his fears; this didn’t necessarily mean that they were completely fucked. Sure, the people being discussed were definitely them, but the drawings on the screen were bad. This didn’t necessarily damn them, did it?

The woman on the screen, much to Spike’s surprise, zoomed in on the sketch of Gambit. Why the focus on him? Hadn’t Spike been the one to kill the guy? Maybe because Gambit had blown up the bike, property damage being enacted. 

Spike began to turn before something on screen caught his ear. The anchor spoke quickly, her expression serious. “While we can really only presume at this point, people wonder if this man is a mutant. If you have any information on the whereabouts of these men, please contact the authorities.”

Spike blinked at the screen. A mutant? He was unfamiliar with the term. Whatever it was, it sounded ridiculous. He looked over at Gambit, who seemed to be desperately trying to avert his gaze. Spike asked, “A mutant? Gambit, what’s a mutant?”

Gambit opened his mouth to answer but instead he was cut off by the sharp sound of the kid at the register gasping. “Hold up- is that y’all?” 

The kid turned quickly, looking outside, and Spike cursed, realizing the kid was looking for his car. Before he could respond, Gambit’s hand took hold of Spike’s and suddenly Spike was being pulled through the doors, sputtering and cursing as they ran towards the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a kudos and let me know what you think in the comments!


	4. I Feel No Need to Forgive But I Might As Well

“I _told_ you we’d get caught,” Gambit spat as he climbed into the passenger seat. The clouds above them were churning, and the smallest drops of rain were beginning to fall from the sky. “I told you, and now that kid is gonna call the cops on us! We’re fucked!”

What Spike didn’t know was that hiding behind the wall that was Gambit’s rage was an intense fear, spurred in the depths of his chest the moment he heard the term ‘mutant’ spoken on TV by the news anchor, and Gambit was hoping that, by focusing on the fact that they soon would have someone trailing behind them, that Spike would be distracted from wanting to know what a mutant was. Maybe Spike wouldn’t press it. 

Perhaps Gambit should have realized how utterly and completely uncharacteristic this expectation of Spike was.

Spike slammed his foot down on the gas, screeching out of the parking lot and driving, not paying attention to where they were going, just focused on getting away, heading anywhere but there. The rain was beginning to fall heavier, and hopefully it would help mask them, even if it did increase their chances of getting into an accident.

But Spike’s thoughts weren’t really on that. 

As Spike sped past other cars on the road, he considered what had just occurred at the truck stop. Gambit seemed unusually apprehensive at the news report, and not just because their own faces had been on screen. Gambit had stiffened at the mention of mutants specifically, and his attempts to keep conversation on anything but the news report only made Spike more suspicious. 

“Gambit-”

“-Can’t you go any faster? That kid surely must’ve called the cops on us by now.”

Spike looked at Gambit pointedly, although he accelerated more, the engine growling in complaint. “Are you going to tell me what a mutant is?”

“I really don’t think that’s important right now-”

“If it wasn’t important, than you wouldn’t be evading the topic-”

“-Seriously, it’s not important-”

“Fucking hell, Gambit!” Spike shouted, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. “Just tell me what it is!”

Spike startled himself with how loud he was and, to both of their surprise, he lost control momentarily of the vehicle, swerving off to the side of the road. The car skidded to a halt as Spike slammed down on the brakes, leaving Gambit heaving in deep breaths, his face pale as he clenched at the seat underneath him. Spike parked the car, taking a moment to gather himself. The rain was only falling harder; he could no longer see out the dashboard.

“Gambit,” he said slowly after they had taken a moment to breathe. “Why don’t you tell me what a mutant is.”

It was a statement, not a question. A request.

The car grew quiet besides the sound of heavy rain pounding against the exterior of the car. Gambit glanced at the door, as if calculating if it was worth running before turning back to look at Spike. To Spike’s surprise, Gambit looked... terrified. “A mutant,” he began, “Is a… different class of humans. They’ve got special abilities. Powers. Wide variety of ‘em, all very different.”

Spike waited. When Gambit failed to continue, Spike said, “So they think you’re one of them instead of a demon.”

“No,” Gambit replied. “I am one.”

Spike stared at Gambit. Wait, what?

Unable to stop himself, Spike laughed. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not a demon,” Gambit continued, his voice almost shaking. “I’m a mutant. That’s why I can… charge shit, make it explode. It’s why my eyes are like this.”

He gestured to his eyes, but he kept his gaze on the dashboard ahead of him, refusing to look at Spike. He added softly, “I was never a demon, Spike.”

Spike stared at Gambit, his mind short-circuiting as he tried to make sense of whatever it was that Gambit was saying. If Gambit wasn’t a demon…. 

Spike blinked, leaning back in his seat. Spike hadn’t heard of a mutant before, whatever that was, but it wasn’t a demon. Gambit was human, which meant that all this time, Gambit had been lying to him.

Spike scoffed, incredulous, then slammed his hands down on the dash in front of him, his words sharp as he replied, “What the fuck! You said you were a demon!”

Gambit tensed, leaning over in his seat towards the door, drawing himself away from Spike. Despite this, he answered back with equal hostility, “No, you _assumed_ I was one! ‘nd why the fuck would I correct you?” He paused, looking away. “At first, I thought you were making fun of me, lots of people have- they call me demonic, call attention to my eyes. I assumed you were just another asshole, and then suddenly you’re a vampire and you’ve drained a guy and I realize that I’ll have to cover my ass unless I want to end up dead like the shitstain on the ground!”

“Why would you pretend to be a demon? That’s ridiculous!”

“I didn’t want you to _eat me_!”

“I! Don’t! Eat! People!” Spike yelled back, snapping his gaze to look over at Gambit, but Gambit had thrown open his car door and jumped out, slamming it behind him. Growling, Spike turned off the engine and followed Gambit out.

The rain was falling in buckets around them, soaking Spike almost immediately. Gambit, too, looked rather pitiful, his hair flat and sticking to his forehead. He stood on the other side of the car, holding onto the roof, as if clinging to it would keep Spike away from him. 

“Does it really surprise you that I didn’t tell you, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m actually a human’? It’s self-preservation one-o-one, _mon ami_! You don’t say shit that can get yourself killed!”

Spike stared at him, nostrils flaring. “You lied to me! This whole time, you were lying to me!”

“I’ve known you for a week! And I watched you kill someone! Why the fuck would I answer honestly about not being a demon when the whole week you’ve been telling me that the reason you haven’t drained me is because I’m a demon that probably tastes disgusting? Hmm, I wonder why I wouldn’t feel safe to be open with you!”

Spike wiped at the rain that was blinding his eyes, struggling to see clearly. “I wouldn’t drain you.” 

He’d paused as he said it, suddenly unsure if that was even the truth.

The pause didn’t go unnoticed by Gambit. “See what I mean!” Gambit yelled, throwing his hands up. “This is why I didn’t tell you the truth! Shit!”

Silence fell between them; it was growing dark, very dark; wherever they had pulled over was an unlit road, and the lack of light paired with the rain left Spike only able to make out Gambit’s eyes. Spike sighed loudly. “We should get back in the car.”

Gambit scoffed. “Oh, yeah, sure- like I feel safe getting back in there with you.”

Stung, Spike moved back as if he was physically shoved. “Why! Why would I kill you now!”

Gambit hesitated. “Aren’t you upset? Haven’t I pissed you off, having not told you?”

“Well, yes, but-” Spike huffed, exasperated, turning around before yelling out at the trees behind him, angry that he had nowhere else to redirect his anger. “You’re driving me crazy! You know what, maybe I _should_ kill you, since you won’t drop the fact that it’s something I _could_ do. I don’t kill every goddamn person I meet!”

Gambit looked away. “How incredibly polite of you, only killing people that piss you off. Really, I feel touched to be in the premise of someone who clearly would never hurt me.”

Gambit was trying to get a rise out of him, and Spike found that it was working. Spike closed his eyes tight, taking a moment before speaking again. “You should have told me. I understand not right away, but after… when we were first fleeing-”

“-You mean directly after I saw you kill someone? That’s when I _least_ wanted to correct you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Gambit, I’m not going to hurt you!” Spike snapped. “We’re way past that. I like you too much, okay? It’d be a waste if I killed you.”

Gambit eyed him cautiously, unmoving. “Yeah?”

Spike nodded. “I’ve made alliances before or whatever. You’re as safe as anyone else. Safer, really.”

Gambit thought for a moment. “A truce?”

Again, Spike nodded.

“You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that. But I won’t kill you over it, alright? Especially now that we’ve started talking about this ‘mutant’ thing: I couldn’t possibly let you die without hearing more about that.”

He was joking, but Gambit didn’t seem to get that. Gambit ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, slicking it back. The rain was falling lighter, but it was still uncomfortably wet out, a cold breeze in the air on top of the heavy rain. Spike sighed. “Alright, fine- let’s start elsewhere. You want to tell me where I’m really driving you to?”

Gambit sighed, his shoulders folding inward as he clasped his hands together. “I wasn’t kidding, referring to them as my family. They are, in many ways. They’re all mutants, like me- all with different powers and abilities- and they go by the X-Men. I guess they’re heroes, fighting crime, all that jazz.”

Spike raised his eyebrows, and Gambit snorted. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking- not exactly my crowd, considering the company I tend to keep and the things I tend to do in my free time. But they took me in, you know? Met some really great people. They- they made me want to be _good_ , yeah? Like I wanted to be my best self ‘round them.”

Spike stared at him, unable to hold back a chuckle. “No wonder you don’t want to kill anyone.”

To Spike’s surprise, Gambit winced, as if Spike’s words had been a stab in his side. “You don’t get it, _cher_.”

“Well then, tell me,” Spike replied. “Might as well- we won’t be driving for a while in this rain, not if we want to keep from crashing. But can we get in the car please? Get out of the damp and try and dry off?”

Despite his hesitancy to get back in with Spike, Gambit stepped towards the car, wondering aloud, “Think the cops are onto us?”

Spike laughed, opening his car door. “In this weather? Hell no. Besides,” he said, climbing into the vehicle. “I think we’re lost.”

Gambit had been settling back into his seat but quickly halted, sharply turning to stare at Spike. “Lost?”

“I think so,” he replied with a shrug.

Gambit laughed sharply, loudly. “I _fucking_ told you a map would be useful! See! Say I was right- say I was right to make us buy that map!”

Spike scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Unwilling to own up to the fact that Gambit was, unfortunately, right, Spike said, “So, Mister Pacifist- you gonna explain to me _why_ I don’t get it, you not being cool with killing people? Does it have something to do with you being a big, bad hero?”

Gambit shot him a glare so full of loathing and hurt that Spike stiffened. Gambit wet his lips, looking away. “I’ve hurt people before, Spike. I t’ink I’ve told you that. Killed people, Spike. People are dead because of me, ‘nd I’m still dealing with the consequences from it. I’m not proud of my past; I’ve hurt far too many people, ones who didn’t fucking deserve it.”

Spike leaned back in his seat; he was uncomfortably wet, and the conversation was only making him more uncomfortable. “What type of consequences are we talking about?” When Gambit said nothing, Spike added, “See, you keep alluding to some shit you haven’t shared. I’m sorry you were heartbroken or whatever, whoever it was that you hurt, and I’m sorry people are dead, although I hope you understand that I’m not the most empathetic person on this front, but can you just drop the walls already and tell me what’s holding you back? It’s driving _me_ up a fucking wall.”

Spike watched Gambit, watched him seem to turn his thoughts over in his mind. Gambit shivered suddenly, and Spike silently reached forward and turned on the heater; Gambit met his gaze, noticing Spike’s action, and with a deep breath, Gambit said, “Everyone I cared for has abandoned me or forced me to leave.”

Gambit suddenly huffed, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it behind him into the back before pulling off his ridiculous shirt. Spike considered following suit, but then Gambit spoke again. “I was kicked out of the Thieves Guild ‘cause my powers killed someone. Didn’t have the best control over ‘em at the time. I still can’t go back there, not really. So I did my own shit. Found new families, though none of ‘em ever seemed to last long. I always ended up having to leave.”

Gambit’s lips began to tremble and he quickly gritted his teeth in an attempt to regain control. “I fell for a girl- Rogue, if you remember- a mutant like me. But before that, before the X-Men took me in, I was all outta sorts… just involved with some shifty people. Shitty people. I didn’t ask questions- I mean, I knew the shit I was doing was dodgy at best, definitely illegal- but if I didn’t ask questions, I didn’t have to live with the guilt. Not my fault, you know? Didn’t know what I was doing, what I was involved in.” 

Gambit looked away suddenly, eyes trained on the window he couldn’t see out of. “Anyway. I was given a job to do, ‘nd I did my part of the job, rounded up some people, led them to these tunnels- they go by the Marauders, though I guess that ain’t that important. Turns out that my boss wanted these people in the tunnels, the Morlocks, dead- they were useless to him, had no reason to live, so… so…. So I joined the X-Men, made to put it all behind me. I guess I thought I could but…,” he paused for a moment, chewing his lip. “I asked her to forgive me, once she learned the truth. ‘Nd I guess I thought… maybe she’d….”

He dropped his head against his chest, his eyes shut tight. “She left me there. In Antarctica.”

“In Antartica?” Spike asked, bewildered. He knew he wasn’t getting all the details to the story, but he had thought this had all happened in New York, not on the other side of the world.

“There was a whole… situation. None of it matters really, just usual X-Men shit, happens around the world. But she abandoned me there. Felt that my actions weren’t forgivable, regardless of my repentance. But I-”

He choked up suddenly, and uncomfortable with Gambit’s sudden vulnerability, Spike looked away. Gambit gathered himself. “Told her I loved her. That ain’t something I can say with ease, ‘nd I just… she left me. I told her I loved her, and she left me to die.”

He straightened in his seat, finally looking Spike’s way once more. “That’s why I’m… hesitant to return home. I mean- when she left me there in the snow, she told me that I didn’t have a home no more. So I don’t- I just don’t know if they’ll let me back in.”

“You know,” Spike replied, his voice gruff. “I think it’s the sort of thing you just have to take the chance on. Time’s passed. Might as well try and apologize again, if that’s your thing.”

Gambit sighed, smiling a sad sort of smile. “You t’ink me being left to die is why I avoid other people? Abandonment issues?”

“Oh absolutely,” Spike replied. “Although I’m no therapist.”

Gambit ran a hand through his hair, still wet. The car had finally warmed up some, and the rain was luckily clearing. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone else. Not like that, anyway.”

The car fell silent. They’d need to start driving again soon if they wanted to keep themselves ahead of anything coming their way. “I meant what I said, Gambit,” Spike said softly. “I’m not gonna kill you, not when we made an agreement for me to take you back, especially considering the fact that we’re only a few hours out and we’re being followed still for the guy we killed.”

“You killed.”

“Drop it,” Spike growled. He nodded at the glove compartment. “Get out that map already. We should get moving again.”

They spent ten minutes looking over the map in front of them, figuring out how to either backtrack to the way they came from or find a different route, in fear that the cops would be back by the gas station they had left behind. They chose, ultimately, to continue taking the backroads for a while longer, even though it meant adding an extra two hours onto the drive. 

They drove in silence for a while, both feeling gross and damp. Gambit still seemed tense, like he was mulling something over in his thoughts. Spike was sure he looked the same way. A mutant? How had he made it this far without learning about _mutants_? Maybe he had met some before and had no idea, just assumed, like with Gambit, that they were also demons. Nothing was impossible anymore, it seemed. 

Once the initial shock and anger had sizzled away, Spike admitted to himself that maybe Gambit was right to be scared to reveal the truth. That didn’t change the fact that Spike didn’t like to be lied to, though.

Spike glanced over at Gambit, who was staring off in the distance as he chewed at his thumbnail. Spike cleared his throat, gaining Gambit’s attention, shooting him a look that asked him to open up.

Gambit sighed, dropping his hand into his lap. “I guess I’m just a little anxious ‘bout returning. ‘Cause they were right to leave me, I mean… I hurt people, I lied to ‘em. I don’t think they’ll want to face me, not yet.”

“They left you to _die_ ,” Spike replied firmly. “I think you’ve been punished long enough over this. Lifetime worth of punishment, if you ask me.”

Gambit said nothing, and Spike softened, quickly adding, “You deserve to be with them. I give you shit for it but… you’ve got regrets, you want to change- sounds like you already have. Just because they can’t see it doesn’t mean you haven’t, doesn’t mean you aren’t trying to be a better person. Might as well ask for another chance. Been long enough.”

Gambit huddled in his seat. “Maybe I’m just bad-”

“-Oh _puh-lease_! Bad!” Spike scoffed. “You want them to see bad, you send them my way, got it? You’re wrong. _They’re_ wrong. I see you, Gambit- you’ve gotten good at hiding your true self and emotions from everyone, but I can see you. I’ve met bad- I _am_ bad. It isn’t you. You care too much, Gambit; bad just isn’t you.”

Gambit straightened in his seat. Softly, Spike heard him say, “Thank you, Spike. I mean it.”

Spike said nothing, instead switching on one of his tapes, The Ramones. 

A song passed, then: 

“I still can’t believe you’re a vampire.”

“I can’t believe you were able to just go along with it. I didn’t even catch on, man- that’s just impressive.”

Gambit chuckled. “I’ve been around some weirdos. Nothing is really jarring to me anymore.”

Spike’s face lit up. “Oh, you want to talk about weirdos? Well, let me tell you about a demon I met in New York thirty years ago….”

\-----

It was the middle of the night when they came up on the mansion. 

Spike let out a low whistle. “That’s the place? It’s huge!”

“Yeah, well, Professor Xavier inherited the place and he turned it into a school for mutants. Trains them to manage their powers, gives them a safe place to live since a lot of mutants are disowned by their families...,” Gambit trailed off, his eyes fixed on the mansion. He blinked suddenly, back in the moment. “But yeah, it’s huge.”

They crept closer; most of the mansion was dark but a few windows remained lit up. Spike wondered just how many people were inside. “Do you think Rogue is in there?” Spike asked.

Gambit shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Probably. She doesn’t exactly have anywhere else to go.”

“Are you still interested in her?”

Hurt flashed across Gambit’s expression and he dropped his gaze. Spike frowned, reaching out to pat Gambit’s arm apologetically. “Well, whatever. You’ll figure it out.”

They pulled up to the front gate; it was closed, and it was dark out besides two faint lights on the top of the fence. Spike parked the car and they sat there for a moment before Gambit reached into the back and grabbed his clothes, shrugging into his black shirt that he hadn’t worn in three days. 

He stepped out of the car, and Spike followed. For a moment, they stood there, taking in the night air, letting the quiet rest between them. After driving in fear of pursuit for so long, it was odd, having a moment to stand around and reflect. 

Finally, Gambit cleared his throat. “Will you be okay? They’re still searching for your car, you know.”

Spike laughed. “I’m dead. Well, you know, undead. I’m good at hiding, and I’m- I’m cool with having to kill some people, although I think you know that.”

Gambit looked at him grimly. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

A moment passed before Gambit asked, “What will you do? Find Drusilla?”

Spike smiled. “Yeah, I will. It’s about time I got her to come home with me. Though first I’m going to ditch these ridiculous clothes. Do you know how stupid of a plan that was? The stupid kid at the gas station still recognized us, even in your vile disguises.”

Gambit laughed, a full sound resonating from deep in his chest. He crossed over to where Spike stood and before Spike could even blink, Gambit’s lips were on his own, kissing him deeply. 

Spike was the one to end the kiss, chuckling. “You’re not too thrown off by me being a vampire that you’re still willing to kiss me goodbye?”

“You’re still cute,” Gambit said with a twinkle in his eye. “And besides, there’s no way in hell someone in the mansion hasn’t picked up on the fact yet that I’m outside, and I just thought, why not give them something to talk about?”

Spike laughed. “At breakfast tomorrow, they’ll just be gossiping about the cute man they saw you kissing.”

They both laughed at the thought. Gambit’s gaze trailed back to the mansion and Spike realized that Gambit was just killing time.

“You’re a pretty chill bloke, considering you’re not a demon.”

Gambit glanced back at Spike, smiling. “Thanks for not killing me.”

Spike shrugged. “Eh, I owed you that, Gambit.”

He held out his hand to shake, not quite sure if he wanted to say goodbye to Gambit yet, but knowing that Gambit would never leave unless Spike forced his hand. 

Gambit grabbed hold of his hand, giving it a firm shake. “It’s Remy.”

Taken aback, Spike stared for a moment before smiling, surprised. He gave Gambit’s hand a final squeeze, pulling away. “William.”

Gambit cocked his head, amused, and with a smirk, Spike leaned in and kissed him once more. When they pulled apart, Gambit stepped back, offering Spike a salute before turning to face the fence.

Before Spike’s very eyes, Gambit suddenly whipped out a bo staff, using it to vault himself, clearing the fence and landing on the other side. 

Impressed and a little confused as to where he had been keeping the staff, Spike whistled, and Gambit turned back to face him as Spike called out, “Bye, Remy. Best of luck to you!”

He heard Gambit chuckle. “Same to you! Hope they don’t catch you, but if they do, try not to start a fight, alright?”

“No promises,” Spike replied. 

He heard Gambit laugh once more, then just like that, Gambit disappeared from his line of sight, off into the darkness.

Spike lingered for a moment, eyes stuck on where Gambit had been. He thought he heard the sound of voices from far away, but whatever it was, Spike couldn’t pick up on it, and with a wistful feeling, Spike climbed back into his car and drove off, wondering where to go next.

It was time to find Drusilla again. He’d put if off for far too long, anyway, and if Gambit could return to people who had screwed him over, then Spike could make himself chase after Dru and get her back. He’d been dawdling for too long.

He hoped that things would work out well for Gambit, in the end. 

\-----

A few weeks later, Gambit found himself eating breakfast at a table he never thought he’d sit at again in a kitchen he thought he’d never be allowed back in. Things were still… rocky. But, he’d been allowed back in and people were talking to him, so that was a start, wasn’t it? It was progress; slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Gambit finished his slice of toast and dropped his plate in the sink, heading out into the hall. For the most part, things went on as usual, as they had before, although occasionally Gambit caught people staring. He tried not to let it get to him. They’d let him back in, after all. Sorta. He was sleeping in the boathouse, but at least it was on the same property.

He still needed to have a talk with Rogue, a heart-to-heart. She seemed to be avoiding him, or at least avoiding heavy conversation with him. He was pretty sure that she felt guilty for what had happened in Antarctica: when she had first seen him, first met his eyes, her own were laden with such pain that Gambit had had to look away. Remorse. Gambit supposed that meant that not everything between them was lost, not forever.

He entered a living room that was almost empty besides a student watching the news. Gambit had nothing else to do around the mansion. He hadn’t had a chance yet to prove himself, which meant that most days were spent sitting around and waiting in rooms. He felt like he was stuck in a regency novel.

The student grew bored, got up and left, leaving Gambit alone with the TV. It was just as he was reaching for the remote that he saw Spike flash on screen. Gambit froze, catching the last few sentences of the report.

“...man is still evading capture. From what sources say, he was last seen in Pennsylvania, alone. If you have information on this man, please call local authorities.”

Gambit stared at the screen in silence before breaking out laughing. To his own surprise, he was washed over with an intense wave of relief, relief that Spike had evaded capture and relief that Spike had seemed to actually listen to Gambit when he had asked him not to start a fight. 

With a shake of his head and a small smile, Gambit settled into the sofa. “Well, I’ll be damned, Spike. I’ll be damned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stumbles upon this fic and gives it a read, but my biggest thanks to August and Caroline- I love you both dearly! Please leave a comment with your thoughts, and follow me on Tumblr @ remylebub!


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